Loophole
by Lindenbay
Summary: In a desperate bid to save the love of his life and prevent impending war, Khan strikes an unlikely deal with the Enterprise crew to send him back into time. But in order to help Molly, he must act as her guide in overcoming her greatest challenge: getting his past-self as Sherlock to fall in love with her. [Star Trek Crossover: Khan x Molly x Sherlock]
1. London Calling

**A/N:** Another experiment I thought of trying. A darker take on what it would have been like if Khan and Sherlock were one in the same. Enjoy!

* * *

"_If you want to know why I did what I did...go and take a look."_

"_Give me one good reason why I should listen to you." _

"_I can give you seventy-two."_

* * *

But there only ever was one.

Khan knew it. It was with him at every trigger he pulled, every blow he created, every move he made, every kill he sought out. That was how deeply the reason had been melded into his being. If it were possible to tear it away from him, it would never be a clean split for a remnant of himself would always cling on.

He leveled his gaze with the captain's own fiery blue one and pressed his left hand against the unyielding glass. The architecture of the ship was familiar to him as this very limb. He knew where they were keeping the weaponry and there..._there_...he was so close but he was careful not to betray his desperation. The Vulcan first officer Spock was by Kirk's side and coldy surveyed him from the other side.

"Do you really think I wanted to be in these circumstances?" Khan asked. "I never wanted to be awoken. Not in this time, not in this plane. The price I am paying for what I am is far greater than I had ever imagined."

Spock inclined forward. "You speak as though you had a choice in being as you are. My understanding is that you and your crew were genetically engineered."

"Not from birth." Khan's memory drifted back. "It was designed as a military experiment. Infinium. I and hundreds of others were selected for the program that used gene transfer therapies to enhance us. The seventy-two that remain are what is left of that generation including the people I hold most dear."

Kirk glared at him, realising what the statement implied. "So you had a say."

Khan lowered his head.

"I was a real man once. Driven by science, puzzles mostly. In my former life, I was a private consulting detective. I had friends. I had a family. But I wanted something more than that, something beyond the banality of ordinary existence, and that is one of the reasons why I volunteered for the project."

He looked down at his hands.

"I never thought it would come to this."

"Are your friends part of the crew that's here?" Kirk asked.

"Some, not all." Khan was somewhere else now, in a far distant system and a city so different from the one that stood today on earth. A remnant of a time long past.

"And your family?"

Khan focused on an empty spot of a wall and willed his voice to be steady as he felt a tide of crushing blame crash against him. "They died."

"Did you kill them?"

"_My wife and our children were murdered by Marcus._" Khan's hands shook as they curled into fists, enraged by the accusation.

Grief splintered his thoughts as fragments of unspeakable images flashed throughout his head. The final breaths, the last signals the cryotube vitals gave before Marcus had ordered the occupants to be removed without adequate life support.

"But I suppose you are right. By extension, I am responsible for their deaths."

"Well you made a fine decision." Kirk bitterly spat. "If any of the bullshit you've told me is true then you've just wasted the last three hundred years in a cryotube, got exploited by a Starfleet Admiral, and now you've put everyone you care about in jeopardy."

"And yet, captain..." Khan's voice grew soft with menacing. "You seem to have done the very thing of which you accuse me of. You also have put your crew in harm's way by agreeing to Marcus' manhunt. You let your impulse for revenge overcome reason. It would have been better for you to have had refused and remained on Earth."

Immediately Spock held Kirk back as he advanced toward the glass, looking hellbent to break the barrier and beat their captive within an inch of his life.

"Don't put me on your level."

In disgust, Kirk shirked away from Spock's restraining arm and strode off with his first officer closely following him at his heels.

When they had gone, Khan sat down and feeling the silence surround him, he put his hands in his head.

The circumstances of how he came to be were unusual and extraordinary. His very existence was a testament to a daring, astounding move made by mankind. Creating a lifeform in their likeness that was superior in every aspect was akin to the act of their God fashioning Adam from dust. He was marvelous, he remembered the scientists telling him. But a blasphemy too, so shouted the streams of protesters he encountered when the world was told of his origins.

The lack of mediocrity and human error was what frightened them, Khan had realised then. In reinventing himself, he had shed his identity in favour of being a demi-god among men. He had even sacrificed his name. His home. His friends. And...

"Molly." He whispered. "I am so sorry."

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.oOo.

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If impulsivity had another meaning, James Kirk would have been it.

Had he been a more emotive man, Spock would have experienced an overwhelming frustration by the sheer madness of it all. He wasn't even sure if he had heard correctly but all of his senses affirmed that he was, indeed, awake and in the present. It was tempting to ask Dr. McCoy to examine the captain for any possible diseases that featured delirium as a primary symptom.

"You are INSANE." McCoy pronounced and Spock, while unaccustomed to hyperboles, was in full agreement with the statement.

"But it could work, I checked with Scotty and I've got the older Spock's approval on this. Sorry." Kirk added when Spock turned to him in surprise. "Look, I didn't tell you this because he made me swear not to. He trusted me with a leftover sample of red matter and told me to use it to save my crew should we ever be in extreme danger...which is now."

"_Why _the _hell _are you even helping this guy?!" McCoy demanded. "You've only just met him, he killed your mentor, and now you're going to throw him back in time-travel? Are you out of your goddamned mind?"

"You heard what Khan said. He never wanted to be like this and his crew are the only people he has left. He'll do anything to protect them, right? So why not give him an opportunity to go back and set things straight? If he can prevent his younger-self from entering that experiment, there won't be a Khan in the first place." Kirk paused. "And no Khan means that attack at headquarters never happened...so Admiral Pike would still be alive."

Spock's inscrutable dark eyes lingered on Kirk. "You cannot bring the dead back to life."

"This isn't about me getting my mentor back, it's about preventing further bloodshed and all-out war with the Klingon empire." Kirk defended a little more loudly than he intended, sensitive to the fact that he was conversing with a man who had lost his planet and mother the year priour.

"If Khan doesn't exist, it also means that Admiral Marcus will never get a chance to act on his crazy scheme and we all get to go home safe without anybody else dying. Can you honestly tell me that the possibility of that isn't worthy trying for?"

"The odds of you being able to send Khan into a precise moment in time by that method are infinitesimally small. The success rate is even less. You have no assurances that he will act accordingly to your wishes if you are indeed able to send him back to the twenty-first century."

"God, you are such a pessimist!" Kirk threw his hands in the air in exasperation. "You never approve any of my plans even when they're perfectly fine!"

"Will you listen to the man?" McCoy swiftly came to Spock's defense. "He's right, there's no way you can ensure that Khan will even do what he said he would. For all you know, he might be lying. This whole thing's horseshit."

"It's not complicated, it's simple. We take the red matter and deploy it onto the planetoid. When the black hole emerges, at the exact time that Scotty calculated for us, we launch Khan out into one of the escape pods. That moment should take him back at most two hundred and fifty years back. Any more, Scotty said it'd be too far." Kirk explained.

McCoy shook his head. "You can't make a bluff without leverage, old sport."

"We have his crew." Kirk snapped. "That's more than enough of a trump card if you ask me. He can't do anything without us having them." He regarded his teammates in rueful dismay before making his way back to the prison bay.

"We are trapped in Klingon airspace. Either Admiral Marcus will kill us or the Klingons will. We don't have a lot of options and this is the best I've come up with to make sure no one on the Enterprise gets hurt...and I'm going to take that chance whether or not you think I shouldn't. But I can't do this alone so will you help me or not?"

* * *

.oOo.

* * *

"Say that again."

Kirk set his jaw, truly annoyed at having to repeat himself but for the prisoner's benefit he did so anyway. It wasn't everyday that someone could shock a three-hundred year old super-human being.

"I can send you back."

"How?"

"You help us fix our reactor and I'll take care of the rest." Kirk answered blithely without revealing any details. When he saw Khan turn away in derision, he added, "We have the means and capability to get you to go back in time."

Khan's eyes gleamed in suspicion. "You don't even have the means and capability to protect your own ship. How could you possibly give me such a guarantee?"

"You don't have a choice." Kirk countered. "Either you trust us on this or you can be content to go back to Admiral Marcus. We both know he's going to kill your crew if they fall into his hands again. Are you willing to risk that?"

"Of course not."

"Then shut up and get ready." Kirk motioned to one of the guards to release the glass barrier. "You're going to be launched into a pod. A crewmember of mine managed to derive the exact time that will get you at least to the early twenty-first century. We don't know what day you'll land but it will before this...experiment...that created you has happened yet."

"And I will be the only one traveling?"

"Yes. In exchange, I want you to help us fix the ship and I will be keeping your crew with us as insurance."

"What if I refuse?"

"I don't think you will." Kirk answered simply. "I'm offering you a second chance to rewrite your history and get back everything that you lost. If you're going to turn that down, it'll just make it harder for me to believe you're the genius that you say you are."

When Khan failed to respond, Kirk nodded and turned to go.

"You leave in ten minutes."

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The last hour had gone in a blur. From being whisked into the engineering where Khan was monitored under Chekov's nervous eye as he repaired the reactor core to the escorted walk for the launch pod.

Starry space surrounded him in a mesh of distant, twinkling stars and the uninhabited planetoid's disintegrating orb loomed above him. He could feel the pull of gravity as he sped closer into the warping void. Behind him was the stark grey Enterprise vessel and he knew all eyes on the command watch were on his progress.

He had witnessed the technological advancements mankind had achieved in the last three centuries and it was nothing short of miraculous. If only those in the past could see what he could see. He closed his eyes as the pod entered the black hole.

Spock's warning rang clear as Khan felt all sense of time being compressed. Once he returned and his objective was completed, the person he knew himself to be would cease to exist and the alternate reality would be shifted into another outcome.

A better outcome.

"I'm coming Molly." Khan called out into the dark. "I'm coming home."

* * *

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_Present Day_

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With easy familiarity, Molly passed through the halls of St. Bartholomew Hospital to close up the laboratory. She secured the chemical substances, locked the double-glass paned doors, and turned off the lights in the pathology section. Shrugging on her coat, she said goodbye to one of the registrar's on-call then headed for the main lobby to reach the parking lot.

She never made it.

A shadowy figure appeared out of the corner of her eye. She gasped in shock then realising who it was, she immediately relaxed. "Sherlock, you scared me...what are you doing here?"

She frowned as she took in the full sight of him. His trademark long-coat had been traded for a similar design in leather. His hair had been cut short and combed back. The style highlighted the gaunt angles of his face and heightened the severity of his appearance. He was thinner and dressed in black, all the more making his appearance look foreboding.

"You look different. Did you cut your hair?" Molly commented. "If you're here to see any bodies, I just got off my shift. You can talk to Pamela if you need help. I'm going home now."

Instead of the quip or cold remark she was expecting, he stood there in total silence and stared at her as though he could not get enough of looking at her. There was a palpable desperation in his eyes, an unnatural contrast to his usually impassive demeanour.

"What's wrong?" Her confusion quickly turned into concern. Hesitating at first, she cautiously approached him. "Are you okay?"

To her bewilderment, a trembling hand rose to touch her face. When the palm made contact with her cheek, she felt the limb cradle it before the fingers slid into her hair, unfastening the ponytail. She stood in profound shock even when he pulled her close to him. Her nose pricked up at the scent of rain and smoke embedded in his clothes. She could feel his arms tightening around her body.

"Hey..." Molly was nonplussed. "What's going on?"

For all of the medical training and science she had devoted her life to, she couldn't explain what was happening. She had only seen Sherlock two days ago and he had completely ignored her. Didn't even say hello. Now here he was, in the middle of night, holding her so..._intimately. _

Molly blushed in spite of herself. Could he...?

_No, wait a second, _her conscience slapped her back to reality, _he's probably high! He's not in love with you, he's on drugs! _

The thought sent her crashing down. She forced herself to break apart from him but Khan held her fast. An act of God then occurred. His mouth met hers and had he not kept her in his arms, she would have fallen straightaway. The kiss swept through her body and she returned it easily as though her lips had expected this embrace. For one perfect, everlasting moment she got all the affection and attention from him that she had wanted in the past year.

Where was all this coming from and why now? Did it matter? She almost didn't care when she felt his lips travel down to her jaw then her throat, leaving heated impressions on her skin. The entire time, she could think of nothing else past his kisses. Fisting his hand into her hair, he roughly guided her lips back to his.

This continued on until Molly, becoming dizzy, pulled back. She gazed at him as though she were seeing him for the first time in her life.

"Molly." Khan's voice resonated with all the love he had bourne for her in the last three hundred years before it hardened. "I don't have much time. I came back here to warn and protect you. You are not safe."

"What are you talking about? What do you mean 'not safe'?"

"What year is it?"

"You're not making any sense. Are you okay? Did you hit your head or something?" Molly fumbled for a plausible explanation. "I can call John if you need_—_"

"_What year?_" He shook her.

"2013." Molly whispered, frightened. "It's the 31st of July. 2013."

Struck by the fear in her voice, Khan loosened his hold. "Don't look at me like that. I can't have you be afraid of me, not you. Please."

"What's going on?"

"Molly." A chasm was breaking open into him as he staggered to tell her the truth and the reason why. God give him the strength, it was more than he could bear. "I am not who you think I am. I came here to rescue you but the reality is that I need your help. I need you to save me."

"You're not making any sense." She shook her head. "Save you? From what?"

He looked down at her.

"From myself."


	2. Human

"_Our top story tonight, a giant meteor has been spotted by NASA who reported the event occurring approximately 18:05 and visible to most of the Northern Hemisphere. Officials from the American agency have determined..." _

What a strange set of events Khan found himself in as he sat in Molly's living room and watched her serve him tea. The television was quietly blaring in the background and the white chiffon curtains had been drawn over the bay windows to a close. It had been so many years but her flat was exactly as he remembered it. A charming room in Kensington Place outlayed with simple but tasteful furnishings although back then, he could have done without the cat. He never particularly had any fondness of Toby in his previous life but when he saw the tabby lurking in the corner, he couldn't help but feel relieved.

But what Khan could not stop marvelling over the woman who now set down a steaming mug smelling of peppermint and sat back down to look at him. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold her close to him again but steeled himself to instead murmur a thank you then sip his tea. She didn't know they would be together yet but she would in time.

"So..." Molly decided to start the ball rolling in what was clearly going to be an awkward conversation.

"You look beautiful."

Molly's face reddened in embarrassment. Well. She had not expected _that_.

"Your hair is longer." Khan scrutinised her, further deepening her self-consciousness. "It was about the same length when I last saw you."

"Yeah, you came to the morgue on Tuesday, remember?" Molly asked haltingly, wondering the magnitude of the concussion that had brought on this sudden, amorous change in Sherlock's personality. He must have hit his head pretty hard to be acting like this.

"No." Khan's face became blank. "That wasn't me, that was my past self."

"Okay." Molly could only nod whilst she rapidly thought back to the day when she had inadvertently eavesdropped on Lestrade who had revealed much of Sherlock's history with drug addiction during a phone conversation.

Everybody in pathology at St. Barts had deemed the private detective as mad, bad, and dangerous to know. The fact that he had once been an addict seemed to confirm their prejudices and although Molly, either out of fairness or bias, tried not to let that taint her interactions with Sherlock she couldn't help but wonder if now was the time to consider it

"Are you sure you don't want me to call John and have him retrieve you?" Molly offered. "We could take you back to the hospital."

"I am not ill, Molly, and I would prefer to stay with you." Khan said. His tone, though neutral and unthreatening, nevertheless surprised her. Sherlock and gentleness could not be said in a sentence together let alone in the same breath.

"But I'm worried. You're not..." She hesitated. "You're not yourself."

"You mean that I am not how you know me to be now." Khan corrected to which Molly shook her head in confusion. His concussion, she had decided early on, was worse than she thought it was. To her astonishment, he reached over and clasped both of her hands into his. "You have no idea what I've done to get here tonight."

Molly blinked. "Um...actually, we took the taxi home. It wasn't too bad of a ride, I thought."

"I _was _Sherlock." Khan's fingers enclosed over hers and brought his lips to her hand. "That name has no meaning for me anymore."

If his appearance hadn't been so altered or the fact that he had shown up in the dead of night, Molly might have believed what he was saying but his actions were so out of character that she didn't know what to make of them. But of course, there was the kiss...

"Are you really all right?" She asked, feeling a second wave of a blush rise to her cheeks.

"You don't believe me." Khan observed. He glanced backwards at the television. "Do you see that? The meteor they are talking about? That was me. I entered into Earth's atmosphere with a launch pod. I landed on the outer isles of Scotland and when I got out from the crash, I destroyed the pod at the impact site. It's very presence would have been a distraction and I did not return from time to further technological advancements."

"Sherlock..."

"Molly, please listen." Khan tightened his grip. "I am indeed your Sherlock but not how you remember him in this present. I came from stardate 2259, that is two hundred and forty-six years from now. Our world is no longer a solitary planet but one of many joined in a universal federation. It uses legions of ships called the Starfleet to enforce laws and maintain trade of all kinds with other worlds."

"I'm calling an ambulance." Molly announced, not wanting to hear any more of this rubbish. "You need to go to the A&E. I need you to be honest with me, did you take a hallucinogenic? I won't tell anyone about this but I have to know so I can help you."

She went for her phone but Khan did not relinquish his hold on her wrists. "Let go of me!"

"I have to show you. I must make you understand." Khan gazed at her imploringly. Taking one hand away, his thumb and index fingers met at her temple, just where the brow framed the eye.

"What are you doing?"

"This is a technique I've borrowed from the Vulcans. They can do this naturally while I need artificial means to conduct the same reaction. I used nanoparticles to store my memories and thoughts. I can transfer them through skin contact at will."

"That makes absolutely no sense!"

"Trust me..."

Molly shut her eyes and the moment his fingers laid against her browbone, she felt a tremendous pull, not unlike being thrown into the ocean and sinking into its depths. She could feel pressure building in her ears and a coldness that seeped into her entire body as though she truly were in water. When she opened her mouth to scream, she found that there was no sound.

There was nothing, but time and space.

Only a voice guiding her through the wells of memory.

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"_In 2026, the United States and the United Kingdom spearheaded a joint-military science programme called Infinium. They selected one hundred test subjects based on intellect and physical strength. I found out about it from Mycroft and I asked to join. We were all treated with gene transfer therapies that altered all of our DNA to make us stronger, faster, and smarter. It was a success." _

In fleeting glimpses, Molly saw a filtered world of blue and grey filled with images she could not comprehend. She saw a room full of men and women in identical uniforms. Documents. Computer codes. Mycroft watching them from a glass, his face made dour with concern. Unfamiliar people in white coats injecting substances or placing vital monitors on the human subjects. Crowds of protesters marching on what looked like a government building.

In vain, she turned around and around to find Khan in this wretched plane but she could not find him.

"_That is how I became the way you see me now. We achieved eternal youth and immortality. We were designed to be peacekeepers whose strength could be used as a deterrent for war. But that never happened. We were persecuted._"

An indescribable panic and sadness arose in Molly when she first heard the screams. In mute horror, she watched the same subjects be chased in unknown streets or shot in some dark forest; a feeling so foreign to her as she could not understand why she felt this way for people whom she had never met. But the pain was so tangible she could not ignore it.

"_They were coming for me. I had to protect you, the children, and our friends. I gave you all my blood to sustain your bodies." _

Suddenly she was hit with a collage of faces that flickered and faded in the grey gloom. She saw Lestrade, John, Mycroft, and an unknown woman take injections from a dark vial. Then herself only she was older...she looked different...and the moment she beheld herself, she felt the pressure build as she drowned in what could only have been love. Passionate love that burned and cooled, a knowledge as certain and deep as the throbbing in her heart.

Silvery laughter echoed around her and she found herself watching the backside of two little boys running ahead of her in an open field. A toddler girl, no more than two, waddled after them in the heather and long grass. Sunlight lit their hair. Though she couldn't see their faces, a rush of tender motherly affection came to her.

"_I put you all to sleep." _

Regret. Cold and heavy regret. Molly looked on to see glass coffins close on her own sleeping form, the children, and many others.

"_I hid us on a ship adrift in outer space. I wanted everyone to wake up in a different time, when things would be better and safer." _

The stars. They loomed above her in a great canopy of light and darkness. It was as though she beheld the ages; supernovas twinkled and glowed from the great distance like pinprick pulses of light.

"_But something went wrong." _

Molly put her hands into her hair, reeling at the sudden speed at which she was pulled from left to right in different places. _Marcus. Star Command. Weapons. Engineer. _An anger that was not her own filled her from within as she beheld the face of a gaunt man with piercing blue eyes. A gnawing loneliness as she became nothing more than a spectator to Khan's travels in landscapes and cities that were frighteningly unfamiliar to her.

"_You disobeyed me, Mr. Harrison. Your latest weapons were total flukes and you did that on purpose didn't you?" _Admiral Marcus' voice reverberated. "_We have guidelines for that you know." _

"_What are you doing?" _Molly heard Khan say. She froze at the note of panic in his tone. _"No__—__NO!" _

She whirled around to see four of the tubes that she had seen herself and the children be encased in. They were in a white, circular room with glass surrounding all the sides. A pair of masked doctors were bent over the metallic sarcophagi. The Admiral stood on the north end, pristine in his navy uniform, and Khan was at the opposite, a figure clothed in black despair. His face was contorted in rage as his fists relentlessly pounded at the unyielding barrier.

The nameless medics in white tapped on the lid of the first one, the buttons clicking with a kind of eerie finality.

"_DONT!" _Khan screamed.

The cryotube broke open and out tumbled Molly's limp body wrapped in wisps of linen, slack and pallid from having been in stasis for so long. Her chest rose but the breath never came. Instead a terrible, choking sound emerged. Her head began to flop from side to side as her body was racked with a grand-mal seizure.

"_NO! NO! STOP! SHE CAN'T BREATHE!" _Khan roared, horror and outrage blistering from his throat. _"SHE'S GOING INTO SHOCK__—__YOU CAN'T DO THIS__—__YOU CAN'T!" _

Wildly, he turned to the Admiral but there was no reply to his plea.

Molly's hands flew up to her mouth as she watched her future self struggle against one wave of epileptic fit after the other. Tears burned in her eyes and soon, she too was crying and screaming with Khan.

"_MARCUS! MARCUS, LET ME OUT!_" The glass wall was splintering into spiderweb cracks. Streaks of blood stained the transparent surface from Khan's cut palms as he clawed against it. "_I'll do what you want but let me save my wife!" _

And then quite suddenly, swiftly, Molly saw her body give a great shudder before it relaxed into a cold silence.

"_NO!"_ Khan cried, sinking to his knees as he continually banged against the glass. Blood trailed in the wake of his helpless hands. "_No...no..." _

His body curled forward as though all of his strength had been taken from him. Tears streaked his face and an anguished sob escaped from him. It turned into a scream filled with bile and corrosive hate at everything this reality stood for.

Loss.

Crazed, he pressed his maimed his hands onto the glass in a futile attempt to reach for Molly's body. Her hair lay in a pool of ashen brown waves. A thin stream of blood ran down the corner of her mouth and just beyond her pitiful form were three more cryotubes readied to be emptied. _  
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"_I love you..." _ Khan gasped out. "_I love you so much...I love you...I love you..." _

Molly's knees buckled and met the insubstantial floor.

She gazed after Sherlock keening over her body and the sorrow hit her like a bullet. Feeling the weight of the impact, she fell backward only to rise further and further away...away from the depths...away from pain...

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Molly's eyes snapped open.

All the air rushed out of her lungs and when she inhaled, the breath caught in her throat and she panicked. Insensate, she clawed at the base of her neck and blindly reached out to grab onto something. Instead a strong pair of arms caught her and held her trembling body to a solid wall of flesh.

Khan kept her restrained, watching and waiting for her breathing to normalise. He could feel her heart frantically beating as if to escape its cage of bone and muscle.

"What..._what did I just..." _Molly's eyes swam with tears. "My god, is everything that you said...? You're really..."

"_Molly._" Khan whispered.

"You bastard." Molly stared after him.

Mustering whatever strength was left, she swung her left hand to slap him across the face.

He flinched to the opposite side but he did not fight back nor did he respond. His lack of words infuriated her all the more and she started to hit him, pounding at him just as she had seen him strike the glass but to no avail.

"_How could you?" _She sobbed as her fists crashed onto his shirt front. "Please don't tell me this is real! This can't be how it ends! Oh god, oh god!"

When Khan didn't answer, she gave up and broke down against him. Crying into his shoulder, she wept for the loss that had not occurred. For the children she had not bourne. For the friends trapped in some dark, alternate reality. For the husband whose sin she paid for with her death.

They lay on the floor of her living room, held fast in embrace, neither willing to remove themselves from it.

"You're not Sherlock..." She murmured as the hysteria subsided.

"No."

"You're Khan."

He lowered his head, cradling her close and stroking the back of her hair as though she were a child.

"That was my past." Khan closed his eyes in resolve. "But I am not going to let that be your future."

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	3. Battle of Wills

Yellow lamplight filtered through Molly's lashes as they fluttered then gradually opened to let in the full spectrum. She found herself lying in her bed. Her head was resting under the crook of Khan's neck and to her mortification, her leg had unconsciously draped itself over his. The smooth material of his trousers and shirt grazed along her skin. She did not even remember falling asleep but for the first time since she saw him, Khan looked at peace.

Immortality suited him well, Molly thought. His face was a white blank devoid of superficial imperfections. The body that lay next to her felt unnaturally hard as though it were made of iron but the suppleness of flesh added a dimension of softness. Curious, she moved her head and was about to attempt to touch his cheek when his eyes snapped open.

"You are awake."

"How long was I asleep?" She asked as she rose from the bed, prompting Khan to do the same.

He glanced at the clock on her nightstand.

"Four hours at most. You were overwhelmed by the mind-meld, I showed you too much and you panicked. I gave you a sedative to calm you."

"You drugged me?" Molly was outraged.

Khan's face betrayed not an inkling of remorse. "It was necessary."

"What are you doing in my room?" She demanded. When she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, she heard a rustle of silk and looked down. She was no longer wearing her work clothes but one of her nighties. To make matters worse, her bra had mysteriously vanished as well. Blood rushed to her cheeks.

"Was undressing me 'necessary' too?"

"I did not anticipate you waking early. I thought your nightgown would be more comfortable for you."

"You had no right to do that!" Molly's voice rose in indignation. She felt a keen sense of embarrassment and anxiety when she realised that Khan had seen her naked body.

As if sensing her disquiet on whether or not she had been molested whilst she was unconscious, Khan calmly stood up from the bed.

"I did not hurt you."

"Get out of my room." Molly ordered at once.

Khan's jaw tightened. "If I offended you, I am sorry but please try to understand my actions after what you saw and felt."

"I don't know what I saw."

"For you, it may seem to be an illusion but for me it was an event that happened only a year ago." Khan's blue eyes flickered in the dark. "I watched you die. And to see you here, living and breathing again..."

Molly felt a pang of regret and pity. She would never be able to articulate what she had gone through in those few minutes of what Khan called a "mind-meld." It was unlike anything she had experienced before. She had been in sync with another person's thoughts, memories, and feelings as though she had been that individual one in the same. That she, or her future self, had been loved by Khan was an irrefutable truth.

"I'm sorry." She apologised. "I didn't mean to be so harsh, it's just that, well..." She twisted and tugged at her hair nervously. "I haven't really had anybody in my bed for a while."

Khan regarded her in confusion. "Are we not in a relationship?"

"What?" Molly's brows rose high until she realised who he had been referring to. "Oh, you mean...Sherlock? No, um, that er...hasn't really happened." She carefully evaluated his reaction. "Is it supposed to?"

"We are not together then?"

"As far as I know, no."

Khan's face darkened in realisation. "I have been sent back too early."

"Well, when did Sherlock and I—I mean, you and me—when did we become a couple?" The question sounded just as stupid out loud as it did in her head when she had contemplated on how to form it.

"We started dating two years after my fall, that would be in 2014. A year from now."

"Oh." Molly's eyes went to the floor, unsure what to make of this information. It was beyond strange to ask questions to someone from the future and to actually have them answered accurately. Tempted, she made another inquiry. "Did we marry?"

"Yes." Khan's sonorous voice seemed to echo in her ears. "We had a summer wedding at Hever Castle. It was one of the happiest days of my life. That, and the births of our children."

Molly looked up to find him gazing at her.

She knew he wanted something from her but she could not give it, at least, not yet. It was difficult to love someone who had already loved and experienced a lifetime with you when you had no memory of any of it. She fingered the pattern on her crochet coverlet, unsure of what to do. Oddly, she felt guilty for not experiencing what she thought she was supposed to feel for this man.

_But he's not Sherlock_, she sadly realised. _He looks like him and sounds like him but he's a different person altogether. He's not the man he was born to be, he's the man those scientists made him to be._

"I've got a lilo. It's in the closet near the door. You can sleep in the living room on it, if you don't mind." She said after a while. "I've got some spare clothes. My brother David sometimes stays over, I reckon a few of his shirts are in there."

Khan paused.

"All right." He turned to go and started to pull off his black turtleneck, revealing an astonishingly well-defined upper body. The skin was taut along the muscle and bone; a masterpiece in marble. As soon as Molly saw his chest, she immediately regretted banishing him from her bedroom.

Wordlessly, she watched his back as he walked towards the closet to rifle through her brother's clothes and take out the mattress. Plucking an unremarkable blue jumper from the collection, he swept it neatly over his head and slipped in his arms. The entire time, he could sense that Molly was looking at him and when he turned around, she gave a start.

"I'm going to bed!" She called out in a desperate attempt to sound normal. "Good night."

Flicking the lamp off, she dove under the covers, all the while praying to God that the night would indeed be good and that it would be a long one.

She wasn't quite sure how to handle facing Khan in the morning.

* * *

.oOo.

* * *

When Molly awoke several hours later and walked to the living room to check on Khan, she found him still fast asleep. She could not explain why but the sight of him lying in bed with his hand curled to his pillow was somehow, jarringly, endearing. If only that figure was the real Sherlock and not a Byronic man claiming to have come from the future.

Quietly, she washed up and dressed for work. Leaving a note on the kitchen table along with a spare key to the flat, she slipped on her shoes then left for the hospital.

She had decided, after a restless night, that it would do more harm than good if she were to kick Khan out of the flat. She was well aware that he had nowhere to go and although she did not doubt that the man was resourceful, given that he was gifted with Sherlock's intellect, it did not sit well with her to abandon him. It was obvious that he cared for her and as he had proven in the past, at least in his past, that he wanted to protect her so she allowed it.

Of course, she would have to teach him about personal boundaries but that was an issue that could wait until after work.

After grabbing a quick breakfast from the cafeteria, she took the lift up to the lab. When she arrived, she found a small group of her colleagues huddled in a semicircle and avidly talking to each other. When one of them noticed her presence, the conversation immediately died down.

"Umm...good morning." Molly greeted them.

Looking as though he couldn't handle staying quiet, one of the junior forensic pathologists Matthew burst out: "Did you really go out with Sherlock last night?"

Molly recoiled back, stunned by this pronouncement. "What?! Why would you think that?"

"The registrar from last night, Aaron Ferguson, saw you leaving with him yesterday. He said you two looked _awfully_ friendly with each other." Pamela, another colleague, explained. Her eyes were practically sparkling in glee.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Molly denied. Inside, she felt a rise of panic. God only knew what would happen if the actual Sherlock found out. How was she going to explain that?

"Oh come on Molly, this is great news!" Pamela cheered. "You're always going on about Sherlock although if you ask us, we don't know what on earth you see in him..."

"I'm not going out with Sherlock." Molly said, a little more firmly this time. "I was just seeing a friend."

"Ferguson swears it was him." Matthew countered.

"Fergie was on-call, he was probably tired and not seeing straight." She reasoned.

"She's telling the truth, guys." One of the senior pathologists, Chen, finally came to her rescue. He held up his mobile in his hand. "Greg just texted me, he said Sherlock and John were with him the whole night yesterday on a robbery case."

The others sighed and grumbled in disappointment.

Molly frowned at them, unable to comprehend why her friends were so invested in the progress of her love life. She turned to Chen, feeling rather betrayed, as out of all her colleagues she knew he was the most reasonable and kind-hearted in the group. That he would participate in talking behind her back really stung her. "You told Greg? Why?"

"Well who was that friend of yours then?" Pamela demanded.

Molly ignored her.

"It's not like that." Chen said apologetically. "It's just...you know, we got excited that you and Sherlock went out. We thought it was good for both of you."

"Oh don't even try giving that cretin any goodie points." Pamela imperiously turned her head away in disdain. "He's an ice cube as far as I'm concerned."

"So you really aren't dating Sherlock?" Matthew asked Molly.

"Who says she's dating me?"

Everyone froze. In great trepidation, they all turned around to find Sherlock standing just a few feet from them. The look in his eyes was indeed as icy as Pamela had so ardently described moments earlier.

_Oh shit._ Molly's heart leapt into her throat.

"Is no one going to answer?" Sherlock's deep voice resonated throughout the hall. "You all were chatting about it so enthusiastically."

Silence blared around them.

"Who told you I was dating Molly?" He coldly asked, bearing down at the pathologists from his taller height.

"Nn...nobody." Matthew stammered. He nervously glanced at Molly then at Sherlock. "We, um, we were misinformed."

"That's quite an understatement." Sherlock replied before turning to Molly. "I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't spread mindless, inaccurate gossip around the hospital, Molly. If you are that desperate to establish a romantic relationship enough to lie about it, I suggest you find a more plausible pairing."

"What are you doing here?" Molly asked with such calmness that everyone else turned to her in confusion for not reacting to Sherlock's incredibly unkind remarks.

"A man's been found stabbed at the West End. His body was brought here. I need to take a look at it."

"Okay." Molly nodded. "Pamela or Chen can be with you at the morgue. I'm on lab shift today."

"No." Sherlock rejected automatically. "Aside from this nonsense about you and me dating, you are the least irritating out of everyone here. Chen is too much of a rule-stickler and Pamela is sloppy. She reeks of that ghastly perfume that she spritzes on in the hopes of attracting one of the coroners although she's got her work cut out for her since he's married. Lyle Watley is the one you're pining after, isn't it?"

Pamela glowered at him.

"I can't go to the morgue with you." Molly replied much to the surprise of her colleagues. Usually when Sherlock made a request, she was the only one out of them who was more than happy to grant it. The fact that she was denying it, in front of them no less, was becoming a powerful statement and testament to a change in her attitude.

Mark goggled at her in admiration but Sherlock was scowling. It was evident that he had not been expecting her to refuse him. He opened his mouth to protest but Molly got to the last word before he did.

"If that's all you came for, I'm going back to lab."

She turned on her heel and with the hem of her white coat whipping past, she disappeared, leaving her shocked colleagues and a thoroughly disgruntled Sherlock in her wake.

* * *

.oOo.

* * *

A vase of fresh roses bought from last week's market that were now starting to fade. The superfine white merino wool shawl gracing the arm of the chaise lounge at the foot of Molly's bed. Silver framed photographs of her parents and siblings sitting on a beach in Dover.

Khan's fingers brushed along the objects, reveling in the familiarity of it all. Molly's scent permeated the flat. For him, it had only been less than a year since she had died. In all of his unnatural life, he had never experienced that kind of suffering nor did he ever dream that he was capable of feeling it. The agony ran through him like a trench and even now as he stood in the safety of Molly's home, the void was unmistakably there.

Taking the shawl, his fingers entwined themselves in the lacy folds. He crushed the delicate garment close to him, burying his nose into the soft wool.

He heard the door open.

Looking up, he dropped the shawl back onto the chair and went out of the bedroom to find Molly pulling off her boots. She threw her bag down and kicking the offending accessory aside, she strode into the kitchen.

"Molly?"

Angrily, she wrenched the refrigerator open and grabbed a tupperware containing sliced fruit.

In silence, Khan observed her flipping the lid off then draw out the silverware drawer to retrieve a fork only to slam it shut.

"You are upset." Khan noted. "What has happened to you?"

Molly looked up. "You happened to me."

"What are you talking about?"

"We were seen last night." She said. "My co-workers were gossiping about it this morning and Sherlock—you—caught on. You insulted me in front of everybody. At this point, I'm sure you hate me."

She attacked her fruit with the fork by stabbing them earnestly with the utensil.

"That is not acceptable."

"I'll say!" Molly vented as she ate.

"You misunderstand me." Khan looked at her. "You cannot let that happen again. I can never see or speak to anyone that we know. Furthermore, you must take care not to anger my past-self."

The fork clattered down on the dining table. Molly stared at him in wide-eyed disbelief and outrage but he continued to speak.

"You will be an important part of my life. You will play a role in many of the decisions I will make. In my reality, I went ahead with the experiment. I need you to reverse that decision and only you can do that. The only way for that to occur is for me, as Sherlock, to fall in love with you."

"What you are asking me to do is impossible."

Molly did not want to admit it but there it was. It hurt her but Khan didn't understand. He hadn't been there to see that look in Sherlock's eyes. There had been disgust, repulsion, and annoyance. Hardly the stuff of great romance and even less of a promising beginning to a passionate love affair.

To her surprise, Khan simply stated: "I fell in love with you once in another lifetime. I can do so again in this one."

His confidence increased her bewilderment. "How?"

"It's quite simple." He replied. "I teach you."


	4. The Accord

Not even five minutes had passed before Khan's proposition had been announced that Molly rescinded the offer.

"No." She shook her head at the idea. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"It's weird. You can't teach someone how to love you, that's not the way it goes."

Khan inclined his head to the side, perplexed. "Your encounters will not be forced. When they occur, they will occur. What I am giving is information to enhance the attraction and catalyse your relationship with me on a further level."

"Are you listening to yourself?" Molly sounded exasperated. "Why do I have to do anything about it anyway? If you said we get together later on, why not let it happen then? Why does it have to be now?"

"Because I need you to make my past self understand that he doesn't need to participate in the Infinium project. That it is not worth the risk."

"Did I try to convince you not to do it?" Molly's eyes met his. The moment she asked the question, the tension became all the more palpable.

"Yes." Khan did not even try to deny it. "I went against your wish. I was convinced that I could make you understand that what I was doing for the good of all. In reality, it was my selfishness driving me towards it."

"You mean," Molly said softly, "that I wasn't enough."

"No." Khan cut her off.

"But that's the truth isn't it? You said we had a life together. We had a family and friends. We had everything but that still didn't make you happy." She looked away, feeling an acute sense of hurt and loss. "You obviously wanted something more and you thought that Infinium would give it to you."

Khan's throat tightened. "I was wrong. There never was any gain. Only loss."

"If we weren't enough for you then, what makes you think that we will now?" Molly questioned. "Doesn't this just mean we aren't meant to be?"

She sat in her dining table, the empty tupperware and fork at her wrist. Outside her windows, the sun had already sunk into the horizon, heralding the comings of night. In one fluid motion, Khan lowered himself to her level and lightly touched her cheek with the back of his fingers.

"I never regarded fate and destiny as real. They were more of a fairy-tale than a meritable concept to be seriously considered. People use those terms inaccurately to put a special meaning into something that has none at all. There is no way of empirically proving that one or the other governs the universe. Physics and chemistry do, mathematics is our crude way of deciphering out the phenomena around us. All I can tell you is what I know."

"And what is that?" Molly looked at him sadly as his touch fell away.

"I know that you and I were happy together. I know that I wanted you to be with me for as long as I lived and that is why I married you. I know that we made a good home for our children. I know that I decided long ago that you were worth every sacrifice which is why I did what I did to keep you safe." Khan's eyes glimmered in the shadows. "I have deceived, killed, stolen, and cheated. There were no limits. I was forced to design weapons, manipulate countless lives, and torture innocent men for Alexander Marcus because he held you as his hostage."

She brought her her hand to her mouth, horrified. "You..killed...?"

"I will never apologise for my actions." Khan remained unmoved as he rose to stand. "They were done for your sake."

Molly rose from her chair, stunned. "I would never ask you to be a murderer!"

"If you are expecting remorse or repentance, you will not get either from me."

"What good did that do?" She argued. "I died anyway!"

Khan slammed his fist down onto the table. The wood cracked under the pressure and when he lifted his hand, there was a distinct impression left on the surface.

Molly did not dare to speak. She did not even move and she expected his voice to rise to instead it came in a steady murmur.

"Do you doubt all that I have done and said?"

"I don't even _know _you!" She burst out. "How can you expect me to love you as you are now when I don't recognise you? I can't even _remember_ you."

"Do you still love Sherlock?" Khan asked quietly. "The man I once was?"

"You're the one who doesn't love me." Molly said in a more of a statement rather than an accusation. All of the sudden she felt weary of the subject. "The way I see it, you're different from last year. You're quieter, you don't get into fits as much, and you do treat me a little better than you used to. You thanked me and told me I counted, I'll never forget that. But things between us are still the same. You see me as a friend, not someone you love."

"Things can change."

"I've been in love with you for almost two years now." She said. "And you still won't have coffee with me."

"Is my existence not proof enough to you that I am not as intransigent to that as you believe me to be?"

"Tell me something." She overrode, refusing to answer his question. "In your lifetime, the way you knew me, how _did_ we fall in love?"

Perhaps Molly was fooling herself into thinking she would receive an answer she wanted to hear, something reassuring or a chronological story in which her pending relationship would unfold. But what she got was a rigid silence.

"I cannot tell you that."

"You mean you won't." Molly translated to which Khan turned from her.

"There are some things that I cannot disclose to you, in order to preserve the continuity of time."

"You changed all that the moment you came to me!"

"Why are you fighting with me on this?" The barest hint of frustration creeped into his voice.

"Because you don't know what you're asking me! I don't...I don't understand what you're saying or doing half the time. Starfleet...Marcus...those torpedos I saw." Molly put her hands into her hair, feeling as though the ground beneath her was slipping away. "I don't know you. You're not Sherlock at all, you're someone completely different. The way you feel things..."

Her mind flashed to the image of the Admiral and the emotions she had encountered with it. There had been a hate there that was so bitter and a desire for vengeance that could best be described as insatiable. But Khan was right. She had not felt not one inkling of guilt or hesitation. Only pure savagery and a deadly passion to fulfill the goal of annihilating Alexander Marcus along with all of Starfleet.

"My hatred is not what I inherited from being with you." Khan reached out to touch her but she flinched away. Visibly disturbed by this reaction, his hands balled into fists. "I am the way I am because of the decisions I made."

He bent his knee down and slowly, as though approaching a frightened animal, his hands stretched out in an open gesture. The inches of space closed to millimeters until his thumb and forefinger slipped around a lock of her hair.

"You never answered my question." He said quietly, brushing the silken strands between his fingertips. "Do you love me?"

Molly closed her eyes. She thought to the first day Sherlock had sauntered into St. Bart's, throwing the doors to the morgue wide open with a bang, not unlike how he had entered her heart. When he apologised to her, the first time he had done so in anyone's living memory, and kissed her cheek at the Christmas party. His smile and triumphant laughter at a well-solved case. That intense look he always got when observing through a microscope. The sadness in his voice when he surprised her in the lab unawares one night.

_You do count. You've always counted and I've always trusted you. _

She exhaled, sensing the warmth of another body close to her own. She felt a smooth forehead rest against hers and with her hand held in his, their breaths went into sync.

_But you were right. I'm not okay._

And there at last, she opened her eyes to see Khan watching her with those inscrutable blue eyes.

_I think I'm going to die. _

"I do love you." Molly whispered.

It was enough for her, at least. Enough to undertake this strange, ungodly endeavour of claiming a man's heart before it was subject to a monstrous change. She loved him. Loved him to where she was willing to do everything and anything to prevent Sherlock from becoming into Khan.

He looked at her, seeing the sincerity of her words written plainly on her face, and as though to honour the grace she had just given him, he caught her lips in a kiss to heartily signify his thanks.

* * *

.oOo.

* * *

"You need to start working on the cases with me." Khan told her later in the evening. "You can present your affinity for biological sciences in that setting. It won't take long for me to see how valuable you are."

"Shouldn't you, I mean Sherlock, see me like that already?" Molly asked testily to which Khan held up his hand to stem her annoyance.

"I did not mean it in that way. This will be your first time volunteering to help me when you have not done so in the past. My past-self will dismiss you but you must be persistent and ready to prove that you are capable in the field."

"I'm a doctor." She reminded him.

"Which is why I have every confidence that you will not fail."

The next morning, as promised, she went up to Baker Street. Finding Sherlock and John at the flat, she announced to them that after giving the matter a great deal of thought, she wanted to be involved in their next case.

"No."

Sherlock did not even bother to look up from his morning paper at the breakfast table as she stood in the living room. Although it was well past noon, he was still in his pajamas and blue dressing gown. His hair, a stark contrast to Khan's short cut, was an unruly mess of black curls.

His rejection came swiftly, assuredly, and with it, Molly felt the whole thing was a resounding failure. Still, she had to try. Khan's warning was still fresh on her mind.

"Well what if I just—"

"I said no."

"Oh come on, Sherlock, don't be like that." John admonished as he poured himself a cup of coffee. "Anything for you, Molly?"

"Black, two sugars." Sherlock's voice rose from the rustling of the newspaper.

John sighed. "I wasn't asking you."

"I've been in forensics for almost three years now." Molly fumbled for additional reasons but it was hard. With every second passing, she was starting to feel like the unpopular kid at school that no one wanted on their team. "And I've got an Oxford medical degree, first-class honours."

"Cambridge is better." Sherlock flatly stated, lifting a forkful of fried egg to his mouth.

"You barely got 2:2 there." John pointed out as he sat down to his breakfast.

"Their mathematics department was abysmally boring. Finals were a waste of time."

"Whatever, Sherlock, her credentials are better than yours. That's a fact." John replied. "Quite frankly, we could use an extra pair of hands."

"I really do want to help." Molly raised her voice. "I'm interested, and, I've seen you guys do a lot of good with what you do. I want to be a part of that."

"Fine, noble aspirations. You could give King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table a run for their money." Sherlock mocked with toast and marmalade in one hand whilst poring over the culture section.

A year ago, Molly would have wilted at his cutting remarks but to her surprise, she stood her ground. She had promised Khan she would be an active participant in Sherlock's cases and was resolved to keep her word. The matter of her being truly accepted as a part of the Baker Street team, of course, was up for debate at this point.

"I'm the only pathologist at St. Bart's that has access to the morgue. I'm also the only person there who can help you. I've worked with Greg a lot longer before you came along too so I know what I'm doing. You need me."

John looked at her appraisingly but Sherlock was not so easy to dish out a compliment to her display of newfound confidence. Shutting his paper to a close, he stood up and walked over to her. All six feet of him towered above her much smaller frame as he bore down at her.

"Are you experienced with guns?" He asked.

"What?" The question threw her off and what came next stunned her. Grasping her hand by the wrist, Sherlock held it up to his lips as though he were going to kiss it. Instead, he turned it over this way and that then let it go, scoffing in disappointment at his examination.

"You've never fired a weapon, you don't even own one. You've never been in a fight. Your hands have always handled corpses, formaldehyde, and latex. A gun would never suit you. You would lose easily in hand-to-hand combat."

He dropped her hand and started walking around her, further continuing his physical assessment.

"You've lost some weight but you're short. You lack long strides. If you were pursued, it wouldn't be hard for someone to catch and kill you."

"Sherlock!" John turned around in his seat in indignation.

"Your physical limitations far outweigh the benefit of having you accompany me on cases which often lead to life-threatening situations. I can't have John or myself having to constantly check to see if you're all right." Sherlock concluded. "The answer's no, Molly."

Even John, her defender, looked rather defeated at Sherlock's reasoning. There certainly was a ring of fairness to what he had said.

If only both men knew exactly how determined she was.

"I'm not asking to go on everyday." Molly continued to advocate for herself. "And I do know how to fight and defend myself."

"You're 163 centimeters and about 50 kilograms. Newton's laws say otherwise when you're up against taller and heavier assailants. Even if you tried, you'd never make it."

Something inside her snapped at that. Looking at him squarely in the face, her hands curled into fists.

"I carried a man of your size across two floors and threw him six stories down." Her brown eyes darkened in intensity. "I lifted you up from a rubbish truck myself and kept you breathing until I got you to a surgeon. I lied to the press, to Greg, to John, and everybody else that you were dead with a straight face. I kept that up for months. You owe me. You know you do and if you want to be cleared from that, let me be on a case with you."

A profound silence followed in the wake of this request.

"Well?" Molly challenged.

John waited with bated breath. His coffee lay steaming at the table, quite forgotten. And Sherlock? He looked at her ever so carefully, searchingly gazing into her face to find the cause for her behaviour. After a few moments he relaxed in concession. Though he did not say it, Molly instinctively knew he had not found what he had been looking for.

"Stop by the flat on Saturday. We have an appointment with a client in the morning. Be here by nine."

"Okay." She nodded.

"Don't come to me complaining if it doesn't go the way you were imagining it. John and I aren't white knights crusading for the betterment of humanity."

To this, Molly smiled, thinking of Khan.

Sherlock watched her, bemused.

"Thanks for the warning." She said. "I'll be in tomorrow."


	5. Break Point

.oOo.

* * *

_What the hell did I just do?! _

Molly fought an impulse to slam her head head against the window as she sat in the tube. She crossed her arms tightly to her chest as though to prevent herself from doing anything stupid and sat like that for the duration of the ride. When she got out of her stop, she made a trip to the grocers and spent a little more time than necessary going over each aisle to select food that she thought would be to Khan's liking.

Did he prefer fish or meat? Or was he vegetarian? Would he enjoy apples? Did he even _know _or remember what apples were at this point?

_No, _Molly stopped herself, _he's Sherlock...or the way Sherlock will be if I don't do something. _

With that in mind, her shopping list became more definitive. Relying on memory and observation alone from what Sherlock ate, she picked up a few items. Lamb. Sumatran dark roast coffee beans to make the blackest brew. Sugar. Eggs. Bread. A cluster of asparagus, some root vegetables, and bagful of brussel sprouts.

Twenty minutes later she came home to find Khan sitting at her dining table, his posture ramrod straight and rigid, looking as though he had not moved from that spot for a long while. He had long since exchanged her brother's clothes in favour of his own black utilitarian garb. The image struck her as lonely and she almost felt regret in leaving him at the flat everyday but thus far, he had shown no signs of wanting or needing to be anywhere else.

"Have you been here this whole time?" Molly asked as she crossed the threshold and set down her groceries.

"I have been following your broadcasts."

She glanced at the telly to which it had been set to BBC.

"Did you see me today?" Khan inquired as he rose from the table.

"Sherlock, er, you, said no." She put her head on the counter's edge in misery. "He only took me on because I lied and said I knew how to defend myself. I don't."

"Why does that matter?" Khan's eyes swept over her bent form. "That can be arranged easily."

Molly looked up. "Excuse me?"

But all she was given in return was an enigmatic stare and a motion to follow him.

* * *

.

.

.oOo.

.

.

* * *

_Drip. Drip. Drip. _

The plastic bag steadily filled up as Khan adjusted the thin tube collecting his blood from an 18-gauge IV. In mute fascination and wonder, Molly watched him as he expertly removed the needle himself and cap off the bag. A pint of blood was the limit for a man of his size and most would have called it a day at that. Instead, Khan took out not one but _six _in less than half an hour.

It was a mind-boggling feat and Molly could not understand for the life of her why Khan's body was not going into shock at how much he had lost. Repeatedly, she tried to get him to stop after he readied the second bag but he would have none of it.

"This is more than enough. You really should stop." Molly worriedly looked at the blood packs that sat in a ice slush bath that she had prepared earlier.

"You need it." Khan replied as he removed the needle and held a patch of gauze to the middle of his forearm. A second later, he took it off to reveal perfectly smooth skin without any trace of a needle mark. "Come here."

Molly hesitated. "But I don't need a blood transfusion."

"This is not going to hurt you. My blood has certain properties that you will find useful to your cause."

"Like what?"

"Regeneration. Muscle strength. Agility." Khan ran over the aspects as if they were nothing. "Qualities that you would need to be able to fight and defend yourself as you said. The nanoparticles will also be in your bloodstream and with that, you and I can communicate at a more interactive level with the mind-meld. This way, with whatever I teach you, you will not only be able to remember it but your body can mimic the motion."

"I almost think you're lying to me." She grinned half-heartedly.

"Then what better way to ascertain the truth by trying." Khan remarked as he held up a sterile needle. "Give me your arm."

Obediently, Molly splayed out the left limb. She winced when she felt the skin break and the cool rush of Khan's blood flowing into her veins. Relaxing into the comfort of her sofa, she let her arm lay atop a pillow as she watched the progress of the transfusion.

"I don't really feel anything yet. Am I supposed to?" She asked after a while when Khan replaced an empty bag with a new one.

"What do you expect?"

Molly shrugged. "Something magical."

"In my time," he wiped at the injection site with an alcohol pad, "what you consider 'magic' is science."

"I think the two are the same. That's why I got into medicine in the first place. I mean, it was loads different from what I expected once I got out of school but the passion's still there for me." She watched him monitor the blood flow. "What's going to happen next?"

"We test you."

And just as Khan promised, several hours later he and Molly went to the rooftop of her flat complex. The sky had pinkened from the setting sun; a city landscape etched in black jutted the horizon. She could feel a strong breeze run across her skin yet she was not cold but strangely warm.

"Don't be alarmed."

To her confusion, Khan reached out to touch her temple. His tepid fingertips pressed against the skin and in an instant, her mind fell down into what felt like a rabbit hole of thoughts. She saw herself once again as the spectator to Sherlock in an open field only he was being attacked. She could smell the grass, _feel _the blows that came, _hear _the sound of bone breaking. Then just as the images came, they came to a white blank.

Dizzy, Molly stepped back, the connection broken at last. She felt a wave of nausea pass over her and when she turned to speak to Khan, she saw him walking away until he stood opposing her.

"What are you doing?" This was getting more bizarre than she had anticipated.

"I'm going to attack you."

_Wha..._Molly blinked. Yes, this was _really _getting out of hand.

Without warning Khan sped towards her, his pace quickening in every second. His face had transformed into a hardened mask devoid of all emotion save one. Determination. His arm pulled back for a hit.

"_Ohmygod, what're you doing?!" _Molly shouted. She was rooted to the spot and could not move. She saw his fist coming for her in delayed intervals then just as it was about to make an impact, she felt her body swerve away.

Her arm reached out to grab his own and before she knew it, she found herself deftly parrying the intended blow. She struck him at his solar plexus with her bent elbow and shot out her leg to kick him in the gut before realising that she was physically attacking the man. There was no hesitation. Her body and mind moved with a kind of coordination that she had not experienced in a long while.

As a girl she had played football and field hockey at school but this far surpassed any physical training she had received in those years. It was almost as though she could predict Khan's next moves and formulate a strategy to defeat him in a matter of seconds.

And it was _amazing. _

Recoiling back, Khan barely had time to block Molly's leg as it came in a fluid arc to hit his side. As though he were gliding on the concrete pavement, he circled around her to find her back and swiftly sent her flying across. She cried out as she rolled onto the ground but when she came to a stop, there was no respite.

Immediately getting up, she broke into a run towards him and feeling the momentum gathering, she launched herself a few feet into the air and crashed down onto Khan, fists and all.

When the dust and debris cleared, Molly found herself straddling him, pinning his arms with her bare hands. Her hair tumbled past her shoulders and hid her face as she bent over her opponent, breathing hard.

Eyes gleaming in what appeared to be dark amusement, his neck arched forward as he attempted to rise but to his satisfaction, she successfully held him down with little effort. The blood had worked after all.

An exhilarating thrill rushed through Molly, giving her a high that no stimulant could ever have possibly hoped to emulate. Flushed with triumph, she looked down at Khan and smiled.

Feeling the strength of her resistance, he pushed his wrist against her hand and with a slight struggle or perhaps he feigned it for her benefit, he wrenched free from her grasp. His hand rose and slipped into her loose hair. He curled his fingers around the strands, feeling them run against his knuckles. His thumb traveled to her parted mouth and ran along the lower lip.

"That was an excellent first try." His liquid smooth voice almost sent her into a shiver of delight. "Shall we begin again?"

* * *

.oOo.

* * *

The first case that Molly went on was, to put it kindly, a disappointment that did not require any use of her newly acquired skills. If anything, Sherlock was quite content to have her stay in the car and wait until the two were finished with whatever field investigation they were doing. It was not until she had been five weeks into tagging along with Sherlock and John did she get her chance.

It was a jewel heist.

Sherlock had been able to accurately predict when the next robbery would be and when they waited in the shadows of a famous jewellry exhibit gallery, before anyone saw the chance, Molly seized it first.

Tackling the masked thief to the ground, she knocked him out with a single hit then turned to take on the accomplice. John, who had been unceremoniously assigned to be her security detail, could only watch in horror and admiration. The fact that he had brought a gun and it was now in his hand seemed useless, unnecessary really.

"How are you doing that?!" John goggled at Molly as she leapt over her attacker to twist his arm back, tearing the rotator cuff as consequence. The robber's partner screamed in pain and fell to the floor, shocked out of his senses.

"Learned from online videos on Youtube!" She breathlessly lied, standing above the thieves who lay in crumpling defeat. "Is that all of them? I can do more."

John stared at her in disbelief.

After this incident, she increasingly employed her martial training to the point that even Lestrade, upon witnessing a few of her stunts in subduing suspects, commended her by saying he didn't think he had to send any officers out on the scene to help the Baker Street gang. So much that he declared he thought about recruiting her for Scotland Yard only to be rebuffed by Sherlock.

"I'm just saying she'd be great, that's all." Lestrade argued in favour of his case one day when he stopped by 221B.

Sherlock barely took any effort to disguise his scorn. "Serving a public agency is always a step down in one's career."

"It's Scotland Yard!"

"A police task force, which for all of my efforts, still hasn't managed to reduce the stagnant twenty percent crime rate in London alone. Why drag Molly into that bureaucratic cesspool? She's happy where she is."

John rolled his eyes, hardly believing what he was hearing. "You complain that the crime rate's not _higher _because it gives you more cases."

Lestrade glared at Sherlock accusingly. "You really are a menace to society."

"She's a pathologist, not a detective inspector. Leave it that way. I don't know where she picked up martial arts and self defense training at this level but she's not cut out for police work." From the tone of Sherlock's voice, it was clear he considered the matter closed.

John gave him a penetratingly searching look but said nothing.

"Fine." Lestrade held up his hands in surrender. "But if Molly's got my attention, then she's got Mycroft's too. He'll probably try to take her for SIS. You wait and see."

"_No._"

Both men blinked at his vehement refusal.

"Sherlock, you just admitted it yourself, she's _really _good at this stuff. Military grade combat skills, if not higher. Wouldn't you say, John?" Lestrade turned to him.

"Well yeah. I mean, it's like Sherlock said, I don't know where Molly got all this from. I never suspected her of being able to do any of this. But she _is_ excellent in handling all kinds of weaponry and physically disarming someone. She can defend as well as she can attack." John threw Sherlock a glance. "Something Mycroft would definitely take in an interest in if he wants more agents."

Sherlock exhaled in frustration. "She's a _doctor_. Not a detective, not a CIA or MI6 asset."

"Why do you care so much where Molly goes?" John turned to him. "It's her decision. Not yours."

"He doesn't care, he's just jealous." Lestrade was annoyed. "She's better at hand-to-hand combat than he is and he doesn't like the fact that I asked her to join the department instead of him this time."

"You've tried to recruit him?" John asked, surprised.

"Of course I did! With everything he does? But this bloody fool always said no so I stopped asking." Lestrade put his hands on his hips, none too pleased. "Then again, given how much he's irritated the hell out of everybody, I suppose it's a blessing in disguise that he never accepted."

"Well then, I guess Molly is a better a candidate." John smiled. "She's intelligent, discreet, and now we all know she can beat us up if we make her angry. Sounds like Mycroft's kind of girl."

"She's not going to MI6!" Sherlock snapped.

"That's not up to you."

"I won't allow it."

"Then if you want her to stay, ask her to stay." John snapped back. "Stop treating her the way you have and be nice for once. Otherwise Lestrade or your brother will be more than happy to have her on their team. She's got options so you can't afford to piss her off."

"I _have _been _nice_." Sherlock looked deeply irritated.

"Then why do you keep asking Molly to make you coffee every time she comes by?" John asked. "She's not your servant."

"Because she knows how I take it. Black, two sugars. It's so simple yet you can't even remember it when I ask you for a cup." Sherlock groused.

"Make it yourself then if it's so simple!"

"Unlike you and the rest of the population, I have better things to do with my time than to engage in the banal tasks of ordinary life!" Sherlock lashed out before turning his fury on Lestrade. "We're not talking about this anymore. Tell me what else you've got on for today..."

* * *

.

.oOo.

.

* * *

"You're mad at me."

Khan's eyes went to the side to find Molly sitting on the bench next to him, playing with a dried leaf.

A series of linden trees lined the promenade of Weatherby Park and the air was pleasantly cool. Leaves littered the sidewalk; splashes of colour appeared in red and white petals from a local poppy field that had blown from the grass and straight into the grounds.

"Well Sherlock is mad at me." She corrected herself. "He doesn't talk much, you know. He won't even look at me. I'm not sure if I did something wrong but he's making me feel like I did."

"You are wrong." Khan said. "He is nervous. He does not know what to make of you."

"Are you sure?" Molly could not help the dismay in her voice.

A ghost of a smile appeared on Khan's face. "He is me. I am him. I have been watching you both. What you mistake for antagonism is confusion and frustration. You presented him with a conundrum."

"A conundrum of what?" It seemed hardly likely she had given a man infamous for his ability to solve complex crimes, something he couldn't figure out.

"What you mean to him."

* * *

.oOo.

* * *

Fifteen.

Fifteen cases are how many Molly has assisted with thus far. In those fifteen, she had physically managed to overpower and capture twelve of their intended suspects.

It was an impressive percentage rate of success and would have been a perfect score had Sherlock not deliberately went out of his way to catch the last three.

"I want you back in the lab." He announced to her, the day after they had concluded a missing persons search.

"Why?"

"You're not a good fit for this kind of work."

"Shut up, Sherlock." John rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Are you really this petty to cut her out after everything she's done for us?"

But Sherlock was resolute on this one. "You can't be here anymore."

Molly scowled, wondering if she was dealing with a grown man or a ten year old boy who wanted to keep all outsiders away from his treehouse. "Fine then. Give me a reason."

Sherlock mightily rose to the challenge. "Your deductive abilities are absurdly low."

"I've contributed in other ways."

"You're reckless."

"So are you."

"You stopped making me coffee."

"For god's sake, she's not a maid or a receptionist!" John looked at Sherlock in disgust. "We've been through this!"

"Do I really irritate you that much?" Molly was stung by how insistent Sherlock was being in getting her kicked out of 221B.

"Well spotted." He sniped. "It would make things so much easier if you would just give up and _leave._"

"But I—"

"It's dangerous!" Sherlock practically shouted. "You almost got killed. Do you have any idea how much work it took me to get you away from all that the last three times?"

It was a few seconds before the meaning of that statement hit John and Molly. By the time they realised what Sherlock had said, that is to say he had blatantly confessed to working incessantly to ensure Molly's safety in the field, an awkward silence ensued.

"You...you protected me?" Molly sounded incredibly hopeful as she looked to Sherlock for a reaction but he would give her none. He stubbornly turned his head away, refusing to meet her eyes.

"Well isn't that a nice change." John declared.

Yes, Molly had to agree as she looked on at Sherlock's broad back, yes it was a nice change after all.

* * *

.oOo.

* * *

Sometime during the night, Khan heard restless stirrings and the sheets crinkling underneath a body that turned in discomfort.

Rising from his own bed, it did not take him long to reach the bedroom. Forfeiting etiquette and courtesy, he opened the door to find Molly asleep but breathing unevenly. He flicked on the lamp. Light scattered about the girl's sleeping form. Her eyes fluttered but they did not open from whatever nightmare was shadowing her mind. Low whimpers escaped her lips.

"Molly." He bent over her. "Molly, wake up."

She stirred but was unaffected. He grasped her shoulders and shook her just enough to jolt her out of the dream.

"Oh my god...!" She breathed in shock upon awaking. When she beheld Khan's face looming above her, she fell back into her pillows, sending cascades of brown hair across patterned cotton. "You scared me."

"You were tossing and turning in your sleep."

Molly put a hand to her forehead, exhausted. "What time is it?"

Khan studied her carefully. "One of the side-effects from a mind-meld is insomnia. Vivid nightmares is another. I should have warned you. I am sorry."

"It's fine." She sighed. "I'm all right, really, I just...I just need to sleep."

"What did you dream of?"

"Nothing."

"What did you dream of?" Khan repeated, knowing at once that was a symptom that had been bothering for quite some time.

Molly hesitated.

"I dreamed of dying." She gazed at him through tired eyes. "I don't know why but I keep pulling back to it. I can...it's almost like I can remember you putting me away in—what is it you called it—a cryotube."

Khan continued to listen in silence.

"When the glass broke," she swallowed hard, "I could feel the air. I tried to breathe but my throat closed up. I don't know why it did that." She ran her hand along the embroidered pattern of her duvet in anxiety and for some reason, her eyes started to blur.

"I could hear you calling for me." Her voice trembled. "I so badly wanted to see you but I couldn't find you. I couldn't breathe. I just...couldn't..."

Molly closed her eyes, feeling the tears slowly run down her cheeks.

A moment later, she felt Khan's hand gently brush against them, blotting away the warm trails with the back of his fingers. Her cheek nuzzled along them, sensing when he pulled away for a moment then return to stroke her brow. The callused pads danced along her temple, her nose,then her jaw as it investigated the geography of her face. Her breath caught when the exploration ventured to the hollow of her neck.

His lips found hers.

Sighing into his kiss, Molly wrapped her arms around his neck. The bed creaked as Khan climbed on top of her. His body hovered just above hers, still connected in the warm embrace. His left arm rested alongside her head as his right hand dug into her hair, grasping at the strands. Her neck arched back as she felt him tug them. Their shadows moved about the walls.

"I failed you." Khan's lips brushed the outside of her ear as he spoke. "I couldn't save you. Not even our friends."

"Don't do that." Molly whispered. Her voice was empty of blame. "How could you have known this was going to happen?"

"I wanted to keep you all safe."

"I'm here now." Molly's hands went to his shoulders then rubbed them back and forth in comforting circles. "You found me."

Khan pressed his nose into her hair, breathing in the scent. Letting go, he traced the neck down to her breasts. They rose pleasantly against his palms as he cupped them. She reached up to kiss the base of his throat and all of the sudden, she felt his grasp at the small of her back and she was lifted up into his arms.

Straddling her to his lap, he squeezed the back of her thighs and pulled at her night-slip with insistence. She ran her hands over his shirt, lifting it by the hem over his shoulders and head. His skin was wonderfully warm to the touch as her palm lay against his heart, the beat echoing with her own.

She caught sight of his eyes, gleaming in the dark with a kind of primal need. His teeth grazed along her lower lip then before they went for her throat. His tongue added a layer of coarse heat against the sting of his bite.

"I can't believe you're here." Molly murmured. Her hands reached for Khan's shirt and pulled it off him. "It's like I'm still dreaming."

She gasped when he tore away at the satin and lace to reveal her naked body but the sound quickly turned into a moan as he held her nipple between his lips. He held her neck as she arched forward and her head fell back. Deftly, he pinned her back onto the bed and grasping her wrists, he removed the last vestiges of her ruined nightgown and slid her pants off.

The cool air met Molly's skin, sending goosebumps in its wake. She continued to kiss him, becoming flush with pleasure. A feeling of thrill and uplifting elation sent her mind into heaven as her body responded to Khan's touch. His hand brushed along the inside of her thigh, lingering dangerously close to an unguarded spot that was becoming more wet with every second.

He trailed his finger down an inner-fold, eliciting a sigh, before entering in. Instantly she clutched to him, breathing hard into his shoulder as he teased, pulled, circled, and pushed. God, it felt _so _good. She writhed underneath him, helpless at his ministrations yet empowered as a recipient. When she felt his tongue, she fell into a pleasant shock. Hot, wet, unreletent. It slid around her, leaving tantalising trails that begged for closure but went on in one continuous, heady stream.

When Molly had first realised she had fallen in love with Sherlock, she had guiltily fantasised about him on occasion. It was a secret that she had not dared admit to anyone but herself. In her imaginings, she always saw him as a lover who was somewhere between attentive and greedy. The reality, as it usually transpired to be, was something else entirely. She was not with Sherlock but a three hundred year old, genetically-engineered version of him. The fact was jarring if she dwelled on it yet they still shared the same core being.

And Khan certainly was _different_. To think she could be this far into the throes of passion, his burning kisses heightening her bliss to an overwhelming heat. The way he touched her was easy and familiar, as though he knew everything about her body albeit this was the first time she had allowed him to see her like this.

_He knows me, _Molly could hardly think beyond Khan's lips, _he was mine once. And I was his. _

She came, pulsing hard as her brain shot up to an exhilarating zenith. She grabbed onto him as she would to a rock as she felt herself being falling over the edge after reaching her pinnacle. Her body relaxed in his arms but it wasn't over. Grasping her to him, in one fell swoop, he separated her legs with his knee and pushed himself in.

"_Ah.._!" Molly's breath caught in her throat.

Fisting his hand into her hair, Khan pulled back then pushed again. She braced for the next hit and when it came, she cried out. His kisses grew more urgent. Their arms intertwined, moving in an ever constant worship of skin and bone. Their lips met again over and over, magnetised by mutual desire and attraction.

He gave a hard thrust, throwing on most of his weight. Her head jerked back as her arms clutched around his shoulders and when she drew away, his mouth caught hers in a deep, sweeping kiss. He went for another, and another, and another. Her breaths came short in exertion. Her legs wrapped around his lower back, willing him to go further.

Digging his nails into the curve of Molly's shoulder, Khan clenched his teeth as he drove into her deep. The pace quickened to a savage beat. He bore down on her, _living_ for every moan, every cry. Lust. It overrode whatever sense he had left in this manufactured body and mind of his. A grunt escaped his lips as he gripped her to him. Her breasts heaved against his chest, inspiring nothing but a raw, hungering need to fuck.

He grabbed her hips, grounding hard against them until he gave a rough groan and one final push that sent her into another pitfall of ecstasy as he came. With a glazed-over expression, he watched her chest rise and fall as his seed spurted inside her. He pulled away, shoulders slackened, and gathering her into his arms, they fell together in bed.

For a long while, there was nothing but the sound of their breathing in unison as they lay in the semi-darkness.

Tired but satiated, Molly reached over to caress Khan's cheek. The weight of her forearm rested against his bare chest. In an uncharacteristic move, he caught her hand and brought it to his lips.

"I wish Sherlock was more like you." She murmured teasingly. "At the rate we're going, it'll take a miracle for him to kiss me."

"Being pessimistic is unlike you." He replied in a low voice. He enfolded her hand into his. "Some day soon, he will tell you he loves you."

"When will that be?" Molly asked, knowing full well that she would never get an answer due to his principle.

"Soon." Khan promised, bringing his lips to kiss her forehead. "I almost feel sorry for him, for myself back then."

"Why?"

"Because," she heard him whisper, "he has yet to realise that you will be his sun and stars. All that he does, all that _I _have done, will revolve around you."


	6. A Choice

Breath.

A simple yet extraordinary movement that was taken for granted. The first sign of life.

Khan was mesmerised as Molly lay in his arms, fast asleep in swaths of utmost comfort and security. In the precious few months he had been here, he had come to love the sound and feel of her pulse. He kept his hand upon her chest, revelling in the dependable beats from her heart. For two hundred and forty-six years, a passage of time that had gone unfelt, he had been separated from her within planes of glass and metal. Artificial life support had maintained homeostasis to keep her alive but once Marcus had her removed without the proper sequencing, her heart had gone into arrest. Having not beaten on its own for so long then being forced to do so in seconds had been too much.

_Marcus_...

Instinctively, Khan tightened his hold causing Molly to fidget in her sleep from the change in pressure.

He had many regrets, one of which was not having the chance to torture the Admiral as he had been tortured and dispatching the man in a most cruel, painfully drawn-out death. He knew Marcus had a daughter. If only he had had the chance to find and kill her in front of her father; a fitting punishment for the Admiral having forced him to be a powerless witness in Molly's execution. Should he have slit Carol Marcus' throat or stabbed her in the lower lobes of her lungs so she would die suffocating from lack of air and agonising pain?

An eye for an eye.

Khan did not know which was greater. His desire for vengeance or keeping the woman sleeping besides him safe at all costs. The Enterprise's captain had given him an offer that had accomplished these things in the least violent way possible; a plan that even Khan conceded was as risky as it was brilliant although he found Kirk's morality as a detriment rather than an advantage.

He should have killed Marcus the moment he had been revived but that opportunity had been lost long ago. Instead, he now had the power to_—_what had Kirk called it?_—_rewrite history.

Khan's eyes rested on Molly's sleeping visage.

To think he had brought on three centuries' worth of pain, misery, and an untimely death upon her. She, who had become collateral in his quest to be _better. _To change the world with his newfound capabilities when all it had done was inspire more fear, greed, and hate. He knew what would have been the easiest, simplest course of action to have prevented all this. He could have gone to his past-self and convinced Sherlock to cast Molly aside, to spurn her so that they would never be together.

That was the best thing for all parties involved yet he had failed to undertake it.

_You make me more of a fool than I realised_, Khan thought as his forefinger brushed the edge of Molly's cheek.

Love. No wonder it was a sentiment for the losing side and yet there was something about it that was indescribably human, an instinctive pull towards basic nature. It ran the opposite direction from his pursuit of higher reasoning. That gave him clarity and grounded, if not soothing, explanations of how the world operated around him. Logic had been enough to survive on. But love transcended the experiencing of simply living by enhancing it in ways he had not realised. It had brought tremendous joy, a life that he had never dreamed of having, fraternal friendships he found himself willingly preserving, and a cause to _die _for.

But with its loss came despair and pain. Truly, it was the most dangerous drug he had ever taken. The withdrawal was excruciating.

Khan kissed the girl's brow and slowly, carefully, he extricated himself from the bed. In silence he dressed in the dark then stood up. When he came to the living area, he took a scrap of paper and wrote a brief note. Laying the message aside on the dining table, he retrieved his coat from the closet.

With one last look in the direction of Molly's bedroom, he turned away and slipped out.

Hours later, Molly awoke to warm sheets and embarrassingly enough, sprawled across the bed. Khan's absence was palpable and as soon as she realised it, she got out of bed and started looking for him when she came upon the note.

_I will return in a few days. Do not be alarmed. _

_Before you see Sherlock, run a bath. Wear your scrubs and do not use any cosmetics. _

Her brows came together in confusion. When she reached the end however, her face broke into a smile.

_If you can help it, try not to glow and look happy. _

Laughing to herself, she clutched the paper to her chest. In girlish giddiness, she made a swift return to her room then jumped on the bed, landing on her plush comforter. For a few wonderful minutes, she basked in the afterglow and assurance that she was loved. After this cathartic session, she followed Khan's instructions by taking a shower to thoroughly rinse away the scent of sex and happiness. She dressed into the hospital blue scrubs, neglected to put on makeup, and plaited her wet hair into a simple braid.

She tried practising in adopting a calm, neutral expression on her face in the mirror and once she felt she had mastered it, she cheerfully headed off to St. Bart's.

Her workday progressed normally, without interruption, and when night fell she went to Harrods after receiving a text from John that he and Sherlock were having dinner at the food court before heading out to investigate a new case they had taken on the day before.

By the time she arrived, she found the two dining at a rotisserie place and working on rather substantial plates of chicken.

"Hello." She greeted. "Got hungry, did you?"

"Yeah, sorry for starting without you." John apologised as he rose to give her a peck on the cheek. "We didn't eat breakfast. Got an early start this morning." He glanced at Sherlock before saying in a low voice. "He hasn't been sleeping much to be honest."

"Really." Molly turned to Sherlock only to find that he was staring at her. She blinked, not quite sure what to make of the sudden attention. "Hey, you okay?"

He frowned and said nothing, further adding to her perplexment.

"Ignore him." John advised. "He's been in a weird mood all this week."

"It's not because of me is it?" She asked, a bit worried now.

"Actually, yes." Sherlock answered much to Molly's and John's surprise. His blue eyes affixed themselves on her with an unnatural intensity. "There's something odd about you."

"What?"

John turned away, shaking his head. "Oh for the love of..."

"How did you come by learning what you can do?" Sherlock's gaze bore into her. "You never displayed any of those characteristics in the time that I've known you."

"I told you." Molly replied in the calmest voice she could muster. "I watched a lot of martial arts stuff on Youtube and practised on my own."

"No." Sherlock made it plain that he did not buy her explanation. "You're guarded today. Why?"

"Leave her alone Sherlock." John warned. "You're just making a fuss over nothing."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Are you being advised by someone? It's Mycroft, isn't it? Has he tried to bring you into MI6?"

"No, it's not like that." Molly shook her head. "Nobody's approached me about anything. I just like doing this kind of stuff that's all. A girl should know how to defend herself."

"Okay, enough." John picked up his knife and fork. "We are not here for an interrogation, we are here to have a nice dinner so can you shut up for ten minutes and enjoy your food?" He turned to Molly. "Here, have a seat. Order something."

"Thanks." Molly replied as she sat down, gratified at John's courteousness and willingness to protect her from Sherlock's incessant questioning. She picked up a spare menu at the table and flashed what she thought was her most demure smile at Sherlock.

"So what do you two recommend...?"

* * *

.oOo.

* * *

Peter Thorne was a twenty-eight year old Oxford graduate who had obtained a cushy job with MI6's military intelligence division and oversaw a myriad of high-security projects, one of which carried the obscure name of Infinium. He was an attractive and amiable man who was well-liked by his co-workers. He was married, had two children, and lived in a charming house at Hampstead Heath.

He was also a gambling addict.

He had a mind-crushingly high debt that he owed to various loan sharks, animals who had started to come to his home and threatened him in low voices. A debt that remained hidden as he kept hiding the bills and expenses from his wife. An amount, despite his entire job's worth, he could not clear in due time.

Every chain had its weak link and Peter Thorne was just that for MI6.

Khan knew this. Using the scant memories he had of the bureaucrats who had first started the project, he was aware that by now the bioengineers and research scientists had submitted the preliminary workings to MI6 and that the agency was in the process of establishing a protocol with the United States' cooperation. It had taken him time to comb through each official and their respective personal lives. Everyone had a weakness, it was just a matter of finding and exploiting one who was severely crippled by theirs.

It was not unlike what he had done with the Starfleet officer Thomas Harewood, the man whose daughter he had saved with his blood in return for destroying the Archive in London.

But that had been in 2259.

Khan had to do something _now _and fast.

After several days of conducting surveillance on Thorne, he approached the analyst in the dead of night, his face hidden by a hood and mask, just as Thorne was getting into his car and made an offer.

With the benefit of foresight and an astute mind, manipulating stock markets was just the tip of the iceberg in what Khan could accomplish. In what would have been considered an extraordinary feat, he had managed to substantially increase a small amount of capital for nearly twenty times its worth and counting. It was for this newly acquired wealth that Khan used it to strike a bargain.

Financial liberty in exchange for...

"_Are you out of your mind?" _Thorne's face turned white in horror. "No...no, I can't. I just can't."

"Either your collectors will get you or I will." Khan darkly promised, his face half hidden in a balaclava. "What will it be Mr. Thorne? At least I am giving you a way to save your family. I doubt the others will do the same."

"You're asking me to kill myself and ruin my name." Thorne whispered.

"Your name has already been ruined." Khan's eyes glinted in the shadows. "And you are dead either way. MI6 will not save you."

"But..."

"Time is of the essence, Mr. Thorne." Khan warned in a low voice. "Give me your answer."

"How can I be sure you won't double-cross me?" The analyst demanded.

"Check your online bank account."

Thorne stared after him in wide-eyed disbelief but he did as he was instructed. With shaking hands, he reached into his jacket pocket to pull out his mobile and open the corresponding app. Within a minute, the expression on his face went from bewilderment to outright shock.

"One hundred thousand pounds..." He murmured weakly. "How...how did you...?"

"That is the first instalment. Consider it assurance that what I say is true. Your debt will be cleared and your family will be saved from ruin. There is also a surplus in which they can use for their provisions in the near future."

Thorne was speechless. He did not dare to voice any jubilation at this sudden windfall, understanding exactly what the cost of it would entail. But at last, after a few minutes, desperation won over reason as it always did with people who had so much to lose. He shakily nodded his head in wordless assent to the ghastly deal.

"All right...all right, I'll do what you say."

"An additional two hundred thousand pounds will be wired to your bank account tomorrow. The next morning, you will conduct your routine as usual and go to your office." Khan produced a silver insignia ring. "Exactly a quarter past eight, you are to drop this in a glass of water."

Thorne's hands trembled as he took the ring. "Is this...?"

Khan inclined his head.

The analyst held it in the palm of his hands with wonder and terror. Suddenly feeling emotional, tears came to his eyes as he slipped it on his left middle finger, just adjacent to his wedding ring.

"Remember, Mr. Thorne." Khan quietly ventured. "I know who and where your wife is. And your children. They will not survive long if you do not do as you are told."

"My god, _who are you?_" Thorne cowered in the stranger's shadow and hauntingly blue eyes that showed nothing but an abnormal emptiness. "How in God's name did you find me and come up with this plan? Why are you doing this?"

"As a gambler, you of all people know that with risk does not come with reward and that everything comes with a price. Your family's lives for your life. Their safety for yours. This is simply a natural consequence of your actions."

"You're a monster." Thorne was emphatic in his revulsion.

"No, Mr. Thorne." Khan offered to correct him in a soft voice. "I am John Harrison." He stepped back, letting nightfall obscure him entirely from Thorne's view. "Until tomorrow then."

* * *

.oOo.

* * *

Before he had put Molly and their children to sleep in their cryotubes, Khan tried to remember the last full day they had together.

It had been a Sunday.

Pursued by government officials, they had fled their home in the country and hid in a shelter that Lestrade had procured at the last minute. In their secret quarters, Molly had tried amusing the children so they would be distracted from the real danger they were all in. She had even planned a small, quiet picnic but at the time, he had been so focused on watching the perimeter for potential agents who had been sent to kill him that he hardly thought about what they had done that day. He couldn't even remember if he had played with their sons, held their daughter in his arms, or had given Molly a final kiss before locking her away in a glass coffin.

What he did recall was that Molly had brought a fairytale book from their house and read to the children the story of Sleeping Beauty. When she had reached the part where the princess had pricked her finger on the poisoned spindle, she used the incident to explain what was going to happen to them.

"_We'll all be put in an enchanted sleep, just like the princess and everyone in her castle was." _Her voice echoed in Khan's head. "_Daddy's going to cast a magic spell on everybody. John, Mary, Greg, and all of his new friends are coming with us." _

"_For a hundred years?" _One of their sons_—_he forgot which one_—_had asked in incredulity.

"_Well hopefully not that long but it's enchanted. That means we'll all look the same just as we do now." _Molly had replied.

"_But how're we going to wake up, Mummy?" _

"_Oh, well about that..." _He remembered Molly looking at him in sadness before cheerfully turning to the children. "_Only True Love's kiss can break the spell so Daddy's just going to have to kiss all of us! Then we will live happily ever after." _

_My princess, _Khan thought in anguish, _I never made it. I never got to wake you. _

Haunted by the memory, he briskly made his way back to Molly's flat, the end of his coat whipping past him as he strode into London. The city was glittering tonight. The dependable, perpetual sounds of traffic and human voices added to a false sense of security that nothing was going to happen. Tomorrow was tomorrow, another day to mark off the calendar.

From his memories, Khan could easily trace out which buildings would be destroyed and what would be in their place three hundred years from now. The architecture of the capital would be altered into something more sleek and utilitarian; all colours would be diminished in favour of black, grey, and silver. He had wondered what Molly would have thought of London in 2259. Could she and the children have adapted? Could they have brought themselves to use and live in vessels far out in space? Would it have been easy for them to exchange the blue sky and England's green hills for a never-ending night canopy of stars?

By the time he arrived at Kensington Place, he had arrived at an answer.

The moment Khan crossed the threshold, Molly immediately got up from the sofa where she had been lying in and threw her arms around him.

"Oh thank God. I was getting worried." She murmured as she buried her nose into the crook of his neck. "You were gone for so long, I thought..."

"I am sorry." Khan apologised. "There was something I needed to do."

"What's wrong?" Molly stepped back to look at him. "Is there something I can help with?"

"No." He answered firmly. "It is done. There is nothing you need to do."

"Well, where were you? Why'd you have to leave?"

"I will explain." Khan promised. "But first, I have a favour to ask of you."

"Okay, what is it?"

"I wanted to know if you would like to go on a holiday with me for a week."

Molly stared at him in wonder. A holiday? Was he actually serious? She dared to study his expression to see if he were joking, if it even _was_ a joke to begin with, but his face betrayed nothing.

"Umm...well I've got work and I don't know if I can..." She trailed off.

"Make an excuse. Tell them you are ill."

"Why do you want to take a holiday all of the sudden?" Molly looked at him warily. "And where are you planning to go?"

"I thought we could go north, somewhere in the countryside. The Highlands perhaps."

"All the way to Scotland? But _why?_" She was finding that she could not stop her inquiries. "Don't you want me to spend more time with Sherlock anyway?"

"I do." Khan acknowledged. He bent down slightly so their foreheads could touch. "But right now, I need you more than he does. I am not making this request on a whim. There is a reason but I cannot disclose it to you until we are en route."

He saw a myriad of emotions pass over Molly's face, one thought streaming after the other. Confusion, suspicion, and doubt. He wondered if he would have to press hard on the issue but instead she nodded in understanding.

"All right." Molly answered after a long while. "Let me see if I can get time off, I could say it's an emergency, which it kind of is...um...okay." She paused, unsure how to go on. "Did you want me to say something to Sherlock or John? They're expecting me to help out this week."

"Reveal nothing." He said. "Whatever lie you tell to the hospital, make sure it's the same one to them. He will find out in an instant that you have misled him."

She nodded, knowing full well which "he" Khan was referring to. "When did you want to go?"

"Tonight."

Until this very moment, Molly did not think she could be so easily surprised twice in a row. Increasingly, she was getting worried. What had caused this? Why was he acting so weird?

"Okay." She replied after some hesitation. "But I don't really know if there are any trains running this late."

"We are flying." Khan answered, breaking away from Molly to withdraw a pair of tickets in a sealed envelope from his inner coat pocket. "We leave in an hour."

"_When_ did you get these?" She was stunned.

"Get your things together." Khan laced his voice with reassurance. "I have already made arrangements for our stay. Leave messages for your workplace and to John." He stopped when he saw the look on her face.

"Don't worry. It will be all right, Molly. You will see. After tonight, I will explain everything in due time."

* * *

.oOo.

* * *

The flight from Heathrow to Inverness was unremarkably short.

When Khan and Molly arrived, a private car took them from the airport and started on the long drive to Dornie, a village that sat right at the crux where a trio of sea lochs met on the Scottish western coast. From there, they would stay at the holiday cottage of Eilean Donan Castle in Glen Shiel. The long day at work catching up to her at last, she fell asleep on the journey. Her head rested on his shoulder, hands clasped to his, as they sped past the empty moors in the early hours of dawn.

Tucking her jacket to her body to preserve warmth, Khan held her close for the rest of the drive. Occasionally his eyes would flicker to the built-in LCD television screen that hung just above the glass divider that separated their chauffeur from the back of the car. He could not sleep. There remained so much more that had yet to happen and he was increasingly becoming aware that time with Molly was precious.

Then, exactly at a quarter past eight, Khan was gratified.

"_Breaking news, a massive explosion has taken place at an SIS office building._" A bewildered reporter from the BBC spoke on the telly screen. "_On the heels of this incident, the Internet has been abuzz at an unprecedented, massive release of government-classified documents detailing what has been called 'disturbing' military experiments, one of which has been singled out as Infinium..." _

The divider slid down.

"Sorry to disturb you and the lady, sir." The chauffeur apologised from the front. "I just wanted to let you know that we'll be in Dornie about twenty minutes or so, it's coming up the road."

"Thank you." Khan nodded in acknowledgement.

The chauffeur glanced back at the television. "I just heard. God awful, isn't it? What kind of madman would do such a thing? They're saying its terrorist work."

"I am sure that our government will do everything in its power to restore stability."

"Well I say you and the lass were lucky to have gotten out of the city before this rubbish started." The chauffeur harrumphed. "I'm glad we're all away from it."

Wordlessly Khan looked down at the girl beside him, still fast asleep, and was hit with the first wave of regret.

It had begun.

* * *

.oOo.

* * *

"What the hell is taking you so long?!"

Sherlock yelled from the bottom of the stairs, just inches away from going out the door and back into the wild. His patience, whatever little reserve he had, was quickly draining away.

"Calm down, I'm right behind you." John called as he went down the steps, hurriedly putting on his coat.

"C'mon, we're late as it is and we have to pick up Molly." Sherlock looked none too pleased.

"Oh she's not coming, she's called in sick. It's you and me today." John replied as he straightened the cuffs of his shirt.. "Am I driving or are we taking a cab?"

Sherlock stopped mid-way out the door. "What?"

"She sent text, said she's got a cold." John went on, not noticing his reaction. He was about to depart but found Sherlock blocking his path. "Erm, aren't we going?"

"Give me your phone."

"What for?"

"Just give it here." Sherlock outstretched his hand. "I want to see what Molly sent you."

Confused, John took out his mobile then opening up the text message, he surrendered it to Sherlock who quickly read the contents. There was nothing beyond two lines: an explanation and an apology but it spoke volumes to him.

"Forget the SIS bombing." Sherlock tossed the phone back. "We're going to do a little digging around instead."

"What?" John was perplexed by the sudden change of plans. "You want to skip that? What's this got to do with...?" He looked down at his mobile's screen and sighed, suddenly understanding. "Sherlock, _no_."

"She's lying. She was perfectly fine yesterday and the day before that. There's a seventy-hour incubation period for air-bourne viral infections and she had no symptoms at all."

"Yes, thank you for that." John replied drily. "It's not like I'm a doctor and can't diagnose a simple cold."

"Come on, haven't you been wondering what's brought on all these changes? Haven't you noticed how closed off she's been?" Sherlock persisted.

"Not this again." John turned away in exasperation. "You've been obsessed by this stupid thing for weeks now. There's nothing wrong with Molly. I don't know what else I can say to convince you otherwise."

But Sherlock shook his head, refusing to give up on the subject. "We have to figure out where she really is, I think Mycroft is behind whatever she's been doing so let's go." He turned to leave but John grabbed his sleeve to stop him.

"What does it matter?" He met Sherlock eye-to-eye. "Why do you care about Molly so much?"

"Oh don't be absurd." Sherlock scoffed as he pried his arm away. "An ordinary girl who unexpectedly acquires physical strength then starts acting secretive? Then two months later, a known SIS intelligence base is destroyed. Documents are then leaked about a military experiment on genetically engineered soldiers right around the time she disappears? They're all connected somehow, I know they are."

A closed expression came over John's face. "Are you sure that's what it really is?"

"It's a mystery. What else is there?"

"Dunno." John shrugged before adding: "I'm actually starting to think you fancy her."

"Right." It was clear that Sherlock did not take the doctor's thought seriously but he neither acknowledged it nor attempted to negate it. A fact that John could not help but comment on.

"You've been trying really hard to make sure she's not in the line of fire these days. You don't ask her to do stuff for you anymore and you've been talking about her for months on end. Molly this, Molly that. 'What d'you think Molly is doing?' It's the kind of stuff that makes me wonder."

To this, Sherlock did not deign to reply.

"D'you know your face lights up every time she comes by?" John smiled. "You kind of look like a kid about to open a Christmas present."

An irresolute silence met this observation.

"Here's a thought. Instead of an investigation, you can spare yourself some trouble by just asking Molly what she's up to." John said, deciding to head back up. The trip to the bombing site had been rendered unnecessary. "You should ask her out for coffee. I reckon she likes hazelnut cream and sugar in hers. Maybe you can make her a cup for once when she gets back."

"Don't be stupid." Sherlock derided as he followed him upstairs. "Make her coffee...what a ridiculous suggestion..."


	7. Halcyon Days

Eilean Donan was a medieval castle built upon the island in Loch Durich and was connected to the west Highlands by a single arched bridgeway. Once a derelict and abandoned fortress that had been ravaged by war, it had undergone an extensive reconstruction that transformed it into a romantic place fit for a fairy tale. The yellowed towers cast a splash of warm colour to the loch waters, the misty grey mountains of Skye in the east, and the cascade of Kintail's green hills.

The castle lacked the majesty and stately grandeur of other finer palaces in the world but its unrefined character lent a charming illusion of quaintness. Its isolated location in the far north further added to the sense that it was a remote, if not abandoned, area of the wild.

The high season of summer having died down, the tourist crowds had diminished entirely. The estate staff had been letting the neighbouring cottage on a weekly basis for several years and whilst reservations were hard to come by, Khan had secured it with little difficulty after offering a sum they could not quite ignore.

When he and Molly arrived on the castle's grounds, she was so tired that she took no notice of her accommodations when they were brought to the cottage and headed straight for the double bed, gratefully sinking into its plush covers. After tucking her in, he went to the living areas.

Finding the televisions, he took out the cable cords and ensured that they failed to respond to the remote. The task complete, he went through Molly's purse and retrieved her phone. Prying the battery out first, he replaced the case back on without it. Hiding the battery in a decorative vase, he returned to the bedroom and finally permitted himself to fall asleep.

In the morning, they were greeted by an autumn sunrise and the smell of breakfast that a hired cook had left for them in the dining room.

The open, airy windows of the living areas gave a spectacular one hundred and eighty degree panorama view of the island. A brilliant September blue sky softened by puffy white clouds provided a magnificent setting to the forests of Kintail. The Isle of Skye lay just beyond the horizon in a blue-grey line of land.

Wrapped in her Aran wool jumper and holding a mug of tea in her hands as she sat at the table breakfasting with Khan, Molly couldn't be happier as she gazed out at the castle. A spread of porridge, kippers, toast, soft-boiled eggs, marmalade, and a bowl of blaeberries lay in between them.

"It's so beautiful." She could barely tear her eyes away from the island. "Thank you for all this…I'm actually kind of glad to miss out on work."

"You love the Highlands." Khan said in a low, knowing voice although she did not seem to hear him. Instead, she contentedly sipped her tea and took a bite out of her egg-laden toast. "I thought that perhaps you would like to see the castle later this afternoon."

"Yeah, of course." Molly scraped away the last spoonful of porridge. Her gaiety dissipated as she awoke from the daze of idyll pleasure and faced Khan. "Really, this is wonderful and all but what are we doing here and why? You said you'd tell me."

"I will." It was difficult to read him. "My priority however is to be with you."

_At least…for as long as I can. _

He turned away to avoid Molly's questioning gaze.

When breakfast concluded, the two headed for Eilean Donan on foot. As they were the only visitors for the day, the groundskeepers gave them the rare privilege of having free rein of the castle. Feeling like a girl of ten who had come upon a secret kingdom, Molly felt her excitement build as she stepped into the ruined courtyard. Khan remained a few feet behind, content with watching her happily walk about the perimeter.

They explored the dark, long hallways that served as a mausoleum of historical artefacts. The portrait gallery featured a series of stodgy paintings of the McRae family set in gilded frames and more than once, Khan had to caution Molly against the low ceilings as they continued further into the castle. When they reached one of the towers, Molly looked down through the narrow window to see the fortress's crumbling keep.

Years of wear from salt water and moss had cracked away the stones, leaving the barest trace of a structural outline. She could see the bridgeway rising from the loch's murky waters. Clusters of yellow broom shrubs and lacy white meadowsweet dotted the country beyond.

What little sun they had seen in the morning had since been hidden away.

Molly drew out her mobile from her coat pocket to take a photograph but to her disappointment, there was nothing but an inert black screen. She sighed in frustration.

"It's been dead since we got here. I must've forgot to charge it." She muttered when Khan approached her from behind. "Do you think it'll work once we get off the island?"

In silence, he wrapped his arms around her, encouraging her to rest the back of her head against his chest. His hands rested on her forearms as his cheek leaned on her hair. The circular staircase was dark from lack of light and extremely narrow, leaving little room between the window and the wall. It was a stark reminder that for all of its charm and beauty, the castle's primary function was to serve as a fortress in darker times.

"You know, you seem to know your way around this place. You knew exactly where the beams where before I hit my head on them." Molly commented, her eyes still on the water. A thought came to her. "Have you been here before?"

"Once." Khan tucked a stray hair behind her ear.

"When?"

But he did not answer. Slowly, Molly turned around to look at him. There was something about the way he was now that seemed beyond her reach. She could not explain what it was but the change disturbed her. She laid her hand against the side of his face.

"You can't keep things like this from me much longer. At some point, you have to tell me. You're different since you came back."

"No, Molly." Khan replied quietly. "I am not different. You are only beginning to see what I really am."

"And what would that be?" But once again, she was robbed of an answer when he caught her mouth in a deep kiss. She looped her arms around his neck as she pulled him close. He pushed her back against wall, trailing his hands down her back then going to her hips. He ground against them and soon she felt a hard, noticeable bulge pressing on her lower body.

Emboldened, she reached down. She heard his breath stop midway but when her fingers began to tease out the length, his hand shot out to grab her wrist. Forcefully he made her turn around so that she faced the loch once more. Encircling an arm over her chest, he gripped her to him as he lifted her skirt by the hem and slid an intrusive hand between her legs.

"Wait,_ you can't_." Molly fought to keep her voice to an acceptable minimum as she felt him extricate her pants down "Someone will see."

Her protestation came for naught when she felt Khan push into her without warning. She cried out only to have his hand clamp over her mouth. His lips burned at the side of her neck. She nearly collapsed to her knees, feeling winded and impaled but he gave her no time to adjust. His thrusts were now coming in a hard, unforgivingly fast pace. She reached out to hold onto the window, the grey stones, _anything _to stabilise herself as she teetered on the edge of pain but he was relentless.

Suddenly he forced her to bend over, pinning both of her hands to ledge with his own. She could hear him breathing hard against the back of her neck.

"_You will never forgive me._" Khan whispered harshly into Molly's ear. "You will come to _hate_ me. But if that is what it takes to keep you _safe—_" He mercilessly drove into her causing her to gasp. "—so be it. It will never alter the truth."

His knuckles whitened as his fingers enfolded over hers and his teeth bit into the delicate skin of her throat leaving unsightly purple marks.

"_You—"_

His body met hers in a hit.

"—_are—_"

Molly shut her eyes, unable to hear or think. She could feel him getting to the close.

"_Mine." _

The word resonated in the dark as he came. Biting back the rising groan in his throat, he pushed deeply into her until their hips met skin-to-skin then slowly, he drew away. The hem of her skirt fell back, hiding her nakedness. Quietly, he fixed his trousers and smoothed the front of his shirt as Molly withdrew from the window.

For the first time since they had slept together, she felt an unsatisfying ache. She had wanted more, another romantic night in bed rather than the savagery that Khan had all but willed her into. A warm and sticky fluid ran down her inner thigh when she put her pants back on.

Suddenly feeling tired, she was about to sit on one of the steps on the staircase when instead Khan reached over and held her in his arms. She felt an impulse to ask him about the things he had said but stopped herself when she caught his eye.

His impassive mask slipped away for but a moment to reveal a terrible sadness, not unlike the expression she had seen on his face during the mind-meld when he had watched her future-self die. She thought of saying something—anything—to take away that memory but found she was at a loss for words. What could she say to comfort a man who had been powerless to stop her death?

Closing her eyes, she let her temple rest at the bottom of his neck and breathed, taking in the present one moment at a time.

There was nothing more to be said.

.

.

.

.

_London_

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.

.

"…I understand your shock under the circumstances but that does not excuse the fact that one of your agents compromised over seventy pending operations. The United States is _not _pleased with what has happened and I can assure you that the Prime Minister is equally vexed."

Mycroft was curt over the phone as he sat in the quiet of his office. Outside, there were various analysts and associates scurrying back and forth to answer calls, fielding off inquiries from the press, or heeding the beck-and-call of their superiors.

"Mr. Holmes." One of Mycroft's receptionists knocked and quickly poked his head through the door as it opened.

"You realise what a scandal this is causing for us all. First, news reports of worldwide spying and now _this._ The press are having a field day." Mycroft continued, frowning at the interruption.

"_Mr. Holmes._" The receptionist hissed. "I'm so sorry—but—it's _your brother_."

Mycroft waved at him impatiently to go away but the receptionist shook his head.

"He's insisting, sir! I can't get rid of him! He's threatening to break down the door!"

Rolling his eyes, Mycroft gave a silent nod of assent as he remained attached to the landline.

"Mr. Braydon, I don't care how you do it, just find a way to destroy all traces of whatever projects that Peter Thorne released on the Internet from your end whilst we do damage control."

Dissatisfied, he clicked off the call and looked up to find a smirking Sherlock in his office.

"You looked troubled, Mycroft. Are we about to head into another war with the Americans or the Russians this time?"

"Unless you have a dire emergency that is threatening foreign relations between the United Kingdom and its allies as we are having right now, I must ask that you leave at once. I don't have the time to act as your chaperone for whatever ridiculous case you've got going on." Mycroft snapped, uncharacteristically showing his frustration out in the open.

"Peter Thorne, I take it." Sherlock surmised in a conversational tone as though the two of them were pleasantly chatting over tea.

"The lunatic." Mycroft identified as he sat back down to his desk. "He has certainly left a _lasting _impression with his death."

"The press seem to think he was corrupted by a terrorist organisation. Is it true?"

Mycroft frowned. "I am unable to say at this time."

"I'm not the press."

"You are unauthorised personnel regardless." Mycroft dismissed. "Stop wasting my time and get on with it. What do you want?"

"Molly Hooper."

Mycroft gazed at Sherlock, not even troubling to hide his perplexity. "Yes? What about Dr. Hooper?"

"Do you use an alias for her like you do with all of your other agents?" Sherlock's eyes gleamed in a knowing light. "Infinium. I know it involved creating genetically-engineered demi-god soldiers. Your government has already been recruiting and creating these people. And Molly is one of them."

To this, the only reaction he received was a sigh and Mycroft rubbing his temple as though his head were hurting him suddenly.

"Dr. Watson is an inept guardian." Mycroft declared as he reached for his landline to call security. "I asked him to watch over you and here you are in my office spouting nonsense. What sort of drug did you take this time? Heroin, again?"

"I am _not _on drugs. I am _clean." _Sherlock hotly denied.

"With the way you are behaving now, I highly doubt that."

"Just tell me the truth!" Sherlock snapped. "Where's Molly? What've you been doing to her and why?"

"Keep your voice down." Mycroft glowered at him with the receiver still in hand. "I have no idea what on earth you are talking about. If this is about Infinium, it was a preliminary study and nothing more. We did not recruit subjects. We do not even have protocols for them and it is very unlikely that we ever will thanks to Peter Thorne. I am unaware of any Dr. Hoopers who were listed for the project if that is your primary concern and as to her whereabouts, I do not know them as she is not on my watch list."

Sherlock snorted. "Like hell she isn't."

Mycroft raised his brows.

"I am warning you." His voice was low but a definite chill emanated from him. "Since the bombing yesterday, my office has been overwhelmed at all angles. London and the rest of the country are in a complete state of panic. We lost over a hundred and twenty-six of our best intelligence officers today because one man had a 'change of heart' about the projects he was supposed to be guarding with utmost secrecy. If you ask me another absurd question, I will have you jailed for harassment."

Sherlock's gaze became impassive. "You're the telling the truth. You really haven't been talking to Molly." He turned away in surprise. "And you don't know where she is."

"You're getting slow. That took you far longer to figure out than I expected." Mycroft coldly replied. "Now get out."

For once, Sherlock did as he was asked. He turned on his heel, leaving his elder brother to await more furious calls. He found John waiting for him in the lobby.

"What did I say?" John pointed out, knowing by one look at Sherlock's face that the meeting had not gone in his favour. "I_ told_ you Mycroft wouldn't have a clue where she'd be. Now that we've wasted this much time, we might as well go out for dinner."

"No."

"Sherlock, come on."

"I said no."

"Well Molly's away." John said. "By your own stupid choice, we checked her flat and she wasn't there. Maybe she went on a holiday, maybe she decided to get a break from you, I don't know but it's her business so why don't you just leave her be?"

To his bewilderment, Sherlock merely grinned. "I'm surprised at you for giving up so easily."

"No, just worried." John replied in dismay. He had learned long ago that any smile of Sherlock's was pretence for something much worse. "You've got that look on your face again, what'd you figure out this time?"

"There are other ways to find out where a person has gone."

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.oOo.

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Time was no longer measured by the clock.

Instead of counting the seconds and minutes away, Khan went by the number of kisses he had received in the day. The weight of Molly's body next to his on the bed, her footsteps on the bridgeway to the village, and the sound of her breathing as she slept became his markers for the hours past.

And her laughter.

How he _lived _for her smile when she awoke in the morning to be greeted by the splendour of the rising sun on the loch. There were times when he lost himself in daze by fixating on a small detail of hers. A stray hair that she curled around her finger, the clink of her spoon as she swirled it in her tea, and the look in her eyes when she gazed out to Eilean Donan.

Molly watched the hot water cascade over her fingers as she ran her hand back and forth in her bath. She was gratified to see Khan's hand slip out of the little waves to catch her own. She felt him shift in the tub as she leaned back to kiss him.

"You must be sick of me by now." She smilingly teased.

"I find that absurd." Khan's deep voice lulled in her ear as his lips parted to catch her mouth in another kiss. The tip of his tongue dragged in slow, gentle lines on the underside of her lower lip.

In an instant, her pulse quickened and she felt the thrill of arousal shoot through her. Water trickled down from her forearms as she turned around to face him and lifted her hands to touch his face. Her fingers caressed his exquisite cheekbones and when she leaned down to kiss him again, he responded with equal ardour. He stroked her back then her hips, sending ripples in his wake.

Until recently, love-making had not been an activity that featured prominently in Molly's schedule. When she had first gotten to know Sherlock, she acclimated to his quirks and habits but this was something she had yet to adjust towards. It was difficult to separate Khan from Sherlock as the two were identical twins in terms of resemblance. Sherlock dismissed the world around him, prone to raging fits, and was spectacularly ignorant in the matters of relationships. But Khan was colder, more silent, and brooding than his past counterpart. The only time he ever showed an inkling of passion was when he was with her.

That piece of knowledge both exhilarated and confused Molly. Khan had often reminded her in more ways than one that he loved her, and by extension, Sherlock would too. But whenever she stepped into Baker Street and saw the detective ready with another cutting remark, the idea of him falling in love with her seemed farther from the truth. She had her questions and the doubt she felt was not only real but valid.

So why was it when she was with this man that all of that went away and she was left with a certainty she could not quite explain?

In careful, deliberate moves he bent his head to press his lips on the delicate swell of her breasts before closing them over a nipple. Sighing as though in relief, she arched back.

Grabbing her by her hips, Khan lifted her from the water and stood up from their bath. Laughing, Molly clasped onto his shoulders as she felt herself being carried out to the bedroom. Throwing a towel onto the bed, he set her down and started to dry her off. His blue eyes took on an intense, mesmerised look as his hands travelled the length of her body. The cotton glided along her wet skin. After she had patted him dry in return, he knelt at the edge of the bed and pressed his face in between her legs.

He wanted her, every inch and feel of her as much as he could gather. His touches were greedy, insistent, but urgent. He could not get enough. A numbness had been seeping into his body and he was sure that as the news of Infinium spread across the globe, it would intensify. He could not keep it at bay but until then, he had to give everything that he had left to her and take as much as he could too. Love. Pleasure. Adoration.

Surprised yet delighted, Molly sank further into the bedcovers when she felt the slip of Khan's tongue. Her breaths soon turned into gasps. Her hands dug into the coverlet, wishing for an end yet at the same time she wanted it to go on forever. When he stood up, she tentatively reached for him, causing a sharp intake of breath when her fingers danced on its hard length. His skin felt hot, dry, and taut. Feeling devilish, she gently brushed her lips on the tip.

Pulling her upright, he cupped her breasts with his hands and encircled her waist with his arms, pressing his body against hers. Coaxing him to lay down, Molly watched him from underneath with eyes darkened by desire. Taking his hand, she guided it to her lower body, sighing again when he pushed a finger into the wet, plummy flesh.

Khan lay over Molly, easily supporting himself with his upper body then pushed. Groaning deep from her throat, she held onto him as he began to move rhythmically. He enclosed a fist into her hair and breathed in the scent of her skin. When he felt her lips kiss at the side of his neck, he could not hold back.

His pulses became powerful, deep thrusts as he held onto her. Every hit was met with a sigh or whisper of pleasure. Burying her hands into her hair, she pulled his head to hers and kissed him as she bucked against his pushes.

"_I love you…" _Molly gasped in between breaths. "_I love…" _

The sentiment died on her lips as she cried out, feeling a spasm that sent her mind flying into a euphoric blank. He continued, struggling to revel in the feeling of her body enclosing over his, then suddenly convulsed over her.

Satiated at last, Molly beckoned him to rest his weight on top of her, his hips meeting hers with his mouth close to her ear as they lay entwined and spent.

"…I have missed you." Khan murmured.

"I'm here." Molly stroked his beautiful hair. "I've always been here. Don't go back to that place."

She felt him kiss her brow then rolling over, they slipped under the covers to go to bed. She turned to shut the lamp off but as she did, she did not see the curiously calm expression on her lover's face as he experimentally flexed his hand in the semi-darkness. The movement was there but all sense of touch was gone in the limb.

In silence he closed the affected hand into a fist and shut his eyes.

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_Forgive me, dearest._

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"Scotland."

Sherlock announced to a shocked and disapproving John when he came home from clinic. He set down his white coat onto the armchair and stood opposite of his roommate who was sitting at the couch with a laptop in front of him. The screen's blue glare unflatteringly alighted Sherlock's features and was opened to a webpage showing an online banking account.

"Molly's gone to Scotland."

"Excuse me?"

"She's used her credit card in the village of Dornie, it's in the Highlands." Sherlock's eyes were glued to the computer.

"Okay…" John could see the disaster happening a mile away. "And how do you know that?"

"I've traced her finances." Sherlock answered carelessly as he clicked on a few items. "I've been following her credit card activity courtesy of my hacking skills. VISA has security measures equivalent to a childproof gate."

John stared after him. "That is illegal, Sherlock."

"I supposed that we could take an excursion and see what Molly's been—hey!"

In an instant, John shut the laptop to a close then grabbed it out of Sherlock's reach.

"I was getting information about any hotel reservations in the area." Sherlock protested.

"Just stop this." John ordered. "You are not doing Molly any favours by poking around in her personal life. If you want to stay friends with her, you've got to stop this bloody nonsense."

"There are questions that need to be answered." Sherlock glared at him. "Something is wrong with her. I have to figure out _why._"

"_There is no case!_" John shouted in frustration. "There's no conspiracy here, it's Molly. She went on holiday and _that's it. _The whole idea of her being some kind of superhuman freak in a government-sponsored program is total bollocks. If this is how you get your kicks nowadays, I feel sorry for you."

"Once again, you fail to _see_ because you do not_ observe_." Sherlock all but hissed at him.

John sighed. "Just leave her be...!"

"Fine." Sherlock leaned back in his seat. "If that is how you feel, I won't discount your opinion. But I choose not to follow it."

"Yeah, I know."

"So it should not surprise you that I have already booked a flight for Inverness."

John blinked, visibly stunned by the announcement.

"I see two potential ways that this can occur." Sherlock continued, ignoring his flatmate's incredulous expression. "I can go to the Highlands and accost Molly myself in my usual way. Or, since you are so protective of her and seem to like being my watchdog, you can come with me when I question her."

His eyes gleamed in cunning triumph.

"So John, what's it to be?"


End file.
